


Some May Call It Fate

by SweetandSnarky89



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Language, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Spoilers up to 7x08, canon to 7x08, recovering, slowish burn, virgin!Daryl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetandSnarky89/pseuds/SweetandSnarky89
Summary: Takes place after Daryl and Jesus leave the Sanctuary.Some may call it fate. Some call it divine intervention. Some call it karma. Daryl didn't believe in any of that shit. But he believes in this idiot who calls himself Jesus.





	1. Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom. I've been working on it since 7x08 ended. I'll update weekly. Comments and kudos are appreciated. Please forgive any errors, self-editing is a bitch sometimes. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter One- Rescue

Jesus kept waiting for Daryl to crash the bike in his exhaustion but he should have known better than to underestimate him. Daryl showed no signs of fatigue as they drove silently through the Virginia countryside and Jesus knew better than to say anything. He could still see the look on Daryl’s face as the pipe connected with the skull of that man. Jesus didn’t know all that had happened to Daryl, but he knew that look and he knew it was best to let Daryl be at the moment. So, he held on and watched the trees blur past them. Occasionally he would tap Daryl’s hip to direct him on certain turns and just as the sun was setting, they were within a few yards of the Hilltop. Jesus tapped Daryl’s right hip, directing him down a small dirt path that wound through the forest. Daryl killed the engine and Jesus hopped off gracefully. “We’ve got to stash this somewhere. I can hide you in the Hilltop, but the bike would be a huge red flag.”

Daryl nodded and got off the bike a lot less gracefully. Jesus watched, noting that Daryl winced when he moved his right shoulder. “There.” 

Jesus followed Daryl’s pointed finger to a large tree where the underbrush had grown up around it. Jesus helped Daryl push the bike over, create a hole, and then cover it up. He found more branches lying around and built over it. When he was finished, he stepped back. You couldn’t even see the bike and nothing about the spot looked suspicious. Daryl was leaning down at the base of the tree and carving something into the wood. When he stepped back, it looked like natural wear and tear of tree bark, but it was obviously something Daryl would remember. “Right, we’ve got to get into the Hilltop with minimal people seeing you. The clothes and the hat are a great disguise for you, just keep quiet.”

Daryl nodded, swayed a bit on his feet, but squared his shoulders and followed Jesus. The guards at the gates didn’t ask any questions, but Daryl kept his head down and his eyes on his boots. Once inside the gates, Jesus came to his side. “Good?”

“Yep,” Jesus said and for the first time since they’d left the Sanctuary he didn’t sound grim. “Doctor Carson can take a look at you.”

Daryl stopped mid stride and grabbed Jesus’ wrist. “No.”

“Daryl...you are hurt.”

“No doctor.” Daryl didn’t need to look up, he could read the pity in Jesus’ tone. 

Jesus exhaled and looked around. It was late enough that no one was around but they couldn’t stay in the open for long. “How about my room? Will that be okay? It’s a couple flights of stairs.”

“Fine,” Daryl said. He dropped his hand from Jesus’ wrist and followed him along. It seemed to take forever to walk across the yard and into the big house. Jesus stepped quietly and Daryl did his best to follow suit. The stairs proved a little tougher given his exhaustion but if Jesus noticed, he didn’t offer to help. Daryl was grateful, if a little concerned, that Jesus could read him easily enough to know that he wanted to do this on his own. 

Jesus opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Daryl to enter the room first. He closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room. “Home sweet home,” he said. “So, you need a shower. I’ll find you something to sleep in and some clothes for tomorrow. I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those for long.”

Daryl shrugged. It didn’t matter to him what he wore. Usually he wouldn’t have even bothered with the shower, especially with the exhaustion that was filling his bones, but he knew he had to smell. “S’fine.”

“Bathroom’s through that door. Leave those clothes on the sink and I’ll switch them out.” Jesus accepted the nod Daryl gave him and watched him walk through the bathroom door. Once the door clicked, Jesus fell against the wall. Between sneaking on the truck, Carl’s antics, and the mad plan of his to help Daryl escape; he was mentally exhausted. It didn’t help that he felt like he was walking on eggshells around the other man. It was obvious that some serious amount of shit had been done to Daryl while he was imprisoned and Jesus wanted to kill every last person involved with it. He ignored the impulse and the reasoning behind it, focusing on finding something Daryl could wear. After he found a pair of lounge pants and a tank top that looked close enough to Daryl’s size, he inched the bathroom door open. The shower was running, so he quickly switched the clothes out and left the room. 

Daryl washed and washed until the shower water ran clear, carefully skating over his bandaged shoulder and still tender ribs. He got out of the shower carefully, towelling dry and heading towards the sink. New clothes were sitting folded up on the counter and Daryl reached out to touch them. The pants were soft and he pulled them on quickly. Looking up through the curtain of his hair, he took stock of himself in the mirror. He was thin, thinner than he’d been in a long time. His chest, stomach, and sides were covered in bruises of varying colors. The gunshot wound was bandaged and he peeled the bandage off carefully. He remembered the bullet being removed and the doctor stitching him up. It wasn’t pretty and it was gonna scar something serious, but it wasn’t infected. He looked around under the sink and the medicine cabinet, finding some gauze pads and tape. He bandaged the wound before sliding the tank top over his head. The exhaustion was starting to become impossible to ignore and he knew if he didn’t get some rest soon, his body was going to make the choice for him. He opened the bathroom door and stepped back into Jesus’ room. The other man was staring out the window but he turned at the sound of the door opening. “Thanks.”

Jesus didn’t know if it was for the clothes or getting him back here, but he nodded anyway. “You sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

Daryl nodded and headed over to the bed. He didn’t even pull the covers down, he simply fell against the bed. Briefly, before sleep dragged him under, he wondered how Jesus knew that he’d feel better with someone watching out while he slept.


	2. Reunion

Daryl woke up with a jerk and swore when the movement twinged his shoulder. He scanned the room, finding Jesus sitting on a chair in the corner. The book he was reading had fallen on his lap and he was watching Daryl, careful not to make any sudden movements. Daryl took a few breaths, reorienting himself with where he was and what had happened. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. You okay?”

Daryl shrugged, pulling himself up on the bed so that his back was against the wall. Somewhere in the night Jesus had put a blanket over him. “How long?”

“About ten hours,” Jesus replied. He dog-eared the page in his book and sat it down next to him. “You hungry or thirsty?”

Daryl shook his head. He knew that eventually he’d have to eat again, but the idea of anything in his stomach made him feel sick. 

“Okay, no problem. You gonna be okay if I head out for a minute. I’ll be right back.” Daryl nodded and Jesus gave him a smile before slipping out the room. 

Once he was left alone in the room, Daryl let his shoulders slump down. His body ached everywhere. He wasn’t used to sleeping in a bed, let alone being able to stretch out. His eyes scanned the room, noting that although Jesus obviously stayed here, it didn’t feel homey. Other than the book and the clothes, there didn’t seem to be any personal touches around the place. He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the wall, and sleep claimed him once again. 

Jesus knocked lightly on the door before opening it. Daryl was still on the bed, but his eyes were closed. He held his hand up to the two behind him and entered quietly. “Daryl?” He didn’t get a response and he debated on letting the man sleep. But he knew that this was important and he stepped closer to the bed. He gently reached a hand out and pressed his palm against Daryl’s chest. The man lurched up, which Jesus expected, and placed enough pressure to push him back against the wall. “It’s Jesus.”

Daryl’s eyes were frantically roaming around the room. They landed on Jesus, who’d placed his hands in the air and backed away from the bed. He took a few deep breaths, focusing on them to calm himself down. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jesus said. “There’s a couple of people here to see you.”

“Rick?” Daryl couldn’t help the hope that made its way into his voice. 

Jesus shook his head, “He doesn’t know you are here yet.” Jesus opened the door and two figures stepped in. 

It was like a switch had been flipped. Daryl jumped out of the bed, backed up against the wall, and held his fists out. “I knew this was a fucking dream. Fuck, wake up.” He banged his fists into his head and Jesus moved before thinking. It was a struggle and if Daryl had been at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to stop him. But with his shoulder and the lack of nutrition, Jesus was able to grab his wrists and press them against the wall. 

“Daryl?” Maggie’s soft voice echoed through the room. 

“Yer dead,” he whispered. “Yer dead and it’s my fault and this ain’t real.”

Maggie gasped as tears started to fall down Daryl’s cheeks. Sasha stepped up beside her. “They must have told Negan you were dead.”

Maggie stepped forward and placed a hand on Jesus’ shoulder. “I’ve got this.” Jesus stepped away and Maggie stood in front of Daryl. She took his hand, placing it on her cheek. “I’m alive Daryl. I’m right here.” Daryl shook his head back and forth frantically, sobs wracking his body. “Look at me, Daryl look into my eyes.” She placed a hand under his chin and lifted his face. She wiped the tears away from his cheek and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m right here.”

His knees gave out and his body crashed into hers. She took the weight of him, but only enough to lower them both to the ground. His face was buried in her neck, breathing in the scent of her and willing it to be real. “M’sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she whispered. “It isn’t your fault.”

“I couldn’t save him,” he muttered, “couldn’t save her neither.”

Maggie wrapped her arms around him and held him close. “I know Daryl, I know.” Daryl cried until he passed out and Sasha helped them move him back into the bed. “What happened to him?”

“I think he was tortured,” Jesus whispered. “I can’t say for sure. I hopped a truck to the Sanctuary and Carl was in the back of it. I don’t know what he ended up doing there, but Negan was taking him back to Alexandria. I was on the roof when I saw Daryl. They had him in this filthy jumpsuit and Negan said something about putting him back in a box. I was going to do whatever I needed to break him out, but by the time I figured out where he was, he had already escaped. We just left, he hadn’t said anything about it since then.”

Maggie ran her fingers along the bandage before lifting it up carefully. “He was shot, but it’s healing fine.” She lifted his shirt carefully and the three of them could barely look at the bruises. “Negan must have told him I was dead, Sasha’s right it would have been the perfect cover for Rick.”

“I think he wanted Daryl to fight for him,” Jesus whispered. “I think he was trying to break him.”

Sasha looked away, tears forming in her eyes. “We’ll kill them.”

“We will,” Maggie said as she stood up, “but we will need help. I have a feeling...we just need to wait. Jesus, will you stay with him?”

“Of course,” he said. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t need to ask and she didn’t need to answer. They all knew that Maggie would be back at the walls, climbing up and watching the skyline for something, some kind of hope that Jesus wasn’t sure existed. Sasha followed after her and Jesus settled back into his chair to wait. 

-x-

Daryl woke up slowly, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel the bone deep exhaustion he had settled into his body. He shifted carefully in the bed and looked over at the chair in the corner. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out of it, but it’d been long enough for Jesus to succumb to sleep. His head was resting on his shoulder and soft little noises escaped every time he breathed out. He looked younger in sleep, so young that Daryl could almost forget that he was practically a ninja in real life. He sat up slowly, stretching out his arms and taking deep breaths. Once he’d worked out his kinks, he stood up slowly. Carefully padding across the room, he slipped into the bathroom. When he came back out, Jesus was awake and standing next to the window. “Morning,” he said.

Jesus turned and smiled at him. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” he responded. He didn’t know how else to answer that question. He was alive, which was more than some could say. “Maggie?”

“Probably on the wall,” Jesus responded. “She’s been up there a lot lately, looking for something. Everyone here loves her, some are whispering that she should take over.”

“She’d be a good leader,” he said. “Runs in their family.” 

Jesus chose to ignore the look of sadness that crossed Daryl’s face. They had lost people at the Hilltop and Jesus had lost some before he got here, but he had a feeling that he’d never experienced the kind of loss that this man had. How Daryl was still standing, still fighting, was beyond Jesus. It made him intrigued, wondering what made the man tick. “So first, you hungry yet?”

“No.”

“Okay, no problem. When you are, just tell me and I’ll get you something. So, I was wondering…” Jesus shifted from foot to foot nervously. 

Daryl looked up, watching him. He wondered if Jesus was scared of him, if seeing what Daryl had done to Fat Joey made him more afraid of him. “What?”

“Do you want to see them? Sasha buried them here.” Daryl sucked in a breath and nodded carefully. “I’ve got some clothes for you, as close as I could get to your size. You and Maggie are going to take all my things eventually,” Jesus teased and handed Daryl the stack of folded clothes.

“Thanks,” Daryl said and he reached out to take the clothes. His hands brushed against Jesus, causing him to flinch. He tried to hide it, but he could see the Jesus had noticed. He walked back into the bathroom to change and hoped Jesus wouldn’t ask him about it. 

Jesus was ready to walk out the door when Daryl returned. He kept silent, despite the numerous questions running through his head. He wondered if he was helping, if Daryl needed something more that he wasn’t asking for. He felt naive and young around the man, unsure if he was helping or hurting his healing process. They approached the graves and Jesus hung back to give Daryl some privacy. It was jarring, seeing someone who kept such a tough persona, crying openly. It made his heart ache and that rush of feeling to protect him came back. He hadn’t known him long, but something about Daryl tugged at his heart. They weren't there long when he heard Maggie yelling for Sasha. Daryl was at his side in an instant and they headed around the corner. 

It was family. He'd know they were before but he'd never seen it like this. They loved each other and it made Jesus’ heart ache with want. Rick hugged Daryl and everyone was crying. Michonne kissed his cheek, held him close, whispered in his ear. And when Daryl handed Rick the gun, they spoke without words. There was a connection with each other, a bone deep connection that Jesus could see, and that he wished for. He would fight with these people. He would protect them. And he tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head that told him there was one person specifically he was thinking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first couple of chapter bounce between Jesus and Daryl's POV, not sure why I did that. It will change to one POV per chapter soon.


	3. Family

Daryl remembered the day Rick had called him brother. At the time, with the pain of losing Beth and the fear of what could have happened and how he'd been involved, it hadn't really registered in his mind. It took time for Daryl to understand that Rick meant brother in a different way than Merle had. He didn't doubt that his brother had loved him, but he knew that Merle had no idea what love really meant or how to express it. Daryl sometimes wondered if his family thought that about him. He didn't say the things he felt, certainly couldn't have stood there and told Rick that his acceptance and forgiveness meant everything to him. Instead, he ducked his head into the other man’s shoulder and held on. He could hear his brother and father’s voice in his head, all the words they'd spew if they saw him openly affection with a man like this. They'd never understand that this...love between Rick and himself, it wasn't dirty or wrong. It was a deep commitment to another person because of all they'd been through together. It was a love that had no limits, no conditions, and no end. Rick made mistakes and Daryl forgave easier than breathing. Daryl made mistakes and Rick forgave him. They were a team, a family...brothers. He handed him the gun, wordless telling him that he was ready. He would fight until his last breath because it's what they did. Together. 

The radio was a lifesaver and Daryl couldn't help but feel a little proud at Jesus for snagging it. With it, they could keep track of where Negan was and when he'd come looking for Daryl. Once again, Daryl felt safe because of something Jesus had done. With his family, it’d taken a while to accept their willingness to protect him and fight for him. Jesus was a stranger, a stranger that Daryl had punched in the face, and yet he was still helping him. He didn't understand it or the easy way he'd come to accept it. “How'd you get out?” Daryl looked over to find Carl at his right. He reached out and punched him the shoulder. “Hey, what was that for?”

“Bein’ stupid,” he grunted. “Ye could've been killed.”

“I knew that going in,” he whispered. “Didn't you when you punched him?”

Something heavy settled in his gut, “was stupid too.”

Carl shifted slightly, “Spencer and Olivia...they died because of me.”

Daryl nodded. He could tell the kid it wasn't his fault, but Daryl knew. No one could ever talk you out of the guilt you feel when your actions caused a death. Too many of them had piled on Daryl’s shoulders and he didn't want Carl to live like that. “Learned your lesson?” Carl nodded. “Good.”

“Did Jesus save you then?”

Daryl scowled at the smirk and ignored the question. Something twinged in the back of his mind and he resolved to ask Jesus some questions later. “Go talk to yer girl, she's starin.”

Carl winked, the little fucker, and walked off. Daryl looked up to see Jesus smiling softly at him. He headed over to Daryl and settled beside him. “You good?”

“Mhm,” Daryl said with a nod of his head. “Can I ask something?”

“Sure, anything.”

Daryl pulled at the skin of his thumb with his teeth. “How'd you know which key went to my bike?”

Jesus looked up at him. “I didn't. I thought you swiped the key. I was heading to find you when I came around the corner and you were…”

His voice trailed off and Daryl flinched. He remembered, looking up through the curtain of his hair, blood splattering his face, to see Jesus’ startled expression. “Don't tell ‘em about it?”

“Of course not,” Jesus said quickly. He shifted, so that he was standing in front of Daryl. He reached up slowly and carefully, resting his hand on Daryl’s wrist and gently lowering the hand that Daryl’d been gnawing at. “If you ever need to talk about it, I'd never tell a soul. I swear, no judgement.” Daryl nodded, unable to find anything to say. “You can stay in my room but you should find someone to stay with you. I don't think you should be alone for a while.”

“You can stay,” the words tumbled out of Daryl’s mouth before he could stop them. “Yer room.”

Jesus smiled softly, “Ok.” The knot in Daryl’s throat disappeared with the smile. In truth, he didn't want anyone else to stay with him. He didn't think that anyone would understand as much as the man standing in front of him. Not for the first time, Daryl wondered how this stranger was able to read him so well. “You should eat something. You want to try something? A fresh vegetable?”

The idea of food still rolled his stomach but he knew he wouldn't heal if he didn't eat. “Somethin’ crunchy,” he muttered? He didn't think he could take anything with a soft texture for a while. 

“Coming up,” Jesus said with a bright smile and practically bounced away. He returned with a carrot, which he passed to Daryl. “Take it slow, yeah?” Daryl nodded. “I'm going to check and see if Maggie needs anything. You good?”

Daryl would have responded but Tara walked up and all words stopped. “Hey,” she said softly. 

Jesus smiled at Daryl before walking away. Daryl turned his attention to the girl in front of him. “I'm…”

“Don't even. Rosita told me everything. It’s not your fault.”

Daryl took a small bite of his carrot. The taste was wonderful, fresh and sharp against his tongue. Another point for Jesus. “Feels like it.”

“I know,” she said. “I think of every person you lost at that prison or lost after and I blame myself. But I know that it wasn't my fault, that we can't be responsible for the things mad men do. Besides, she got to feel brave and strong and free for a day. Rosita told me she risked her life to get me something.”

“She loved ya,” he said, “was scared to tell you.”

Tara sniffed, wiping away a tear. “I knew. You know, sometimes you just find someone who understands you. Who gets you in a way that other people don't. Like they see into your soul or something. Guess that's why they call them soulmates, yeah? So listen, don't be blaming yourself for her death. She wanted you to live, not to just survive. That's what you can do to honor her...to honor them all.”

Daryl nodded and accepted another hug from her. “I'll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was short. More Daryl and Jesus interaction in the next chapter!


	4. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief warning for a homophobic slur in a memory.

Jesus knew that things wouldn't magically be different with Daryl once his family was there, but he hadn't expected it to get worse. He'd moved a cot into his room, insisting that Daryl sleep in the bed. He slept in shifts, always keeping an ear for any noise Daryl made. The first few nights, he slept soundly, although he woke up most days without knowing where he was at first. During the day, Jesus watched him stand at the edge of his family, drawing into himself unless someone approached him. He didn't have much to go on about how Daryl behaved before the imprisonment, but what he had seen hadn't been this. Daryl looked...beaten down. And it frayed Jesus’ nerves that he couldn't help. 

The visit to the Kingdom has mixed results. They convinced King Ezekiel to fight, which was good. But they ran into two members of their family there, one was a lady that Daryl was obviously very close to. She had stayed behind and whatever her reasoning for it, it clearly broke Daryl’s heart. Jesus wondered if Daryl had been in love with the woman and he almost asked one of the others about it, but it felt like betrayal to learn any part of Daryl’s past from someone else. That probably meant it'd take forever for him to learn anything about the man, but he was willing to wait. 

The dreams started the first night after they visited the Kingdom. Jesus started staying awake all night just to make sure Daryl didn't hurt himself in his sleep. Sometimes he flinched away, as if someone was hurting him. Most of the time, he cried. It was painful to watch but Jesus did. He spent all night watching over him, standing near the window in case he was needed quickly. Gregory had made a smart comment about Jesus’ new position as Daryl’s nurse and he'd punched him the jaw. He didn't need to explain to anyone why he was doing it. He only knew that he had to, that he wanted to. 

“Rovia?”

Jesus turned quickly to the man in his bed. Daryl was sitting up, his back against the wall, a glass of water in his hand. “My last name, really?”

“Ain't callin ya Jesus.”

“You could call me Paul.” For some reason, a blush popped up on Daryl's cheeks. “You okay?”

Daryl nodded, sipping slowly. “You ain't sleepin?”

“During the day,” he said. “You've been having dreams, I didn't want you to hurt yourself.”

“You ain't gotta do that.”

“I know,” Jesus answered. “I want to. You hungry?”

Daryl shook his head. Beneath the dark hair, his face was healing and losing that sunken look. He was starting to look healthier with each day. “They kept me in a cell.” Jesus didn't breathe, didn't move. This was the first time Daryl was voluntarily speaking about his experience. “I just...can we go outside?”

“Sure,” Jesus said. He grabbed his shoes and waited while Daryl slipped his on. He followed Daryl outside and they walked the edge of the fence. 

For a while, everything was quiet. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees covered the sound of their footfalls on the ground. After a while, Daryl spoke. “Whatcha do before?”

“This and that,” Jesus answered. “I worked at a bar in D.C right before shit went down. Guess it doesn't matter anymore, unless you were a doctor. Now, we are who we are. Survivors.”

“You lose anyone?”

Jesus nodded. “I lost a few friends I was traveling with and we've lost some here.” 

“I was with my brother,” Daryl said. “You got family?”

“I had a brother,” Jesus said softly. “I never met him. My dad, he ran away when I was young. Remarried and had another family. My brother, he kept writing me letters. He wanted to meet. It wasn't his fault my dad was an ass to me but I kept saying no. Figured I'd have time later.”

Daryl was staring at him when he looked up. For the first time, Jesus could really see him. He’d been catching glimpses here and there of bright blue eyes filled with pain, but seeing it up close like this was something else. Whatever had happened in Daryl’s latest dream seemed to have cracked the walls he’d built around himself. Jesus felt like he was seeing something no one else had before. “Sucks.”

Jesus shrugged, “I feel guilty about it but I can’t let it consume me. Tell me about your brother?”

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other before settling, leaning against the wall of the Hilltop for support. “Was an ass.” Jesus waited, content to let Daryl take as much or as little time as he needed. He knew that the man needed to talk, he could see it in his eyes, but he knew it wasn’t easy or comfortable for him. “He left when I was young, came back a few years before this shit. We just...drifted. He’d get himself into trouble, we’d move out.”

“You loved him, yeah?”

Daryl shrugged, “He was my brother. Ain’t have no one else.” A small smile, barely there, graced Daryl’s face. “We’d been in a bar, a few weeks before the world went to hell, drinkin’ and Merle, he was high. Chattin’ up some girl didn’t have enough sense to walk away from him. We’d been travelin’ lots and my hair was real long, longer than now. This trucker, big ol’ son of a bitch, three sheets to the wind and loud, come up to me. Wasn’t payin’ no attention, more than a little lit myself, and he just grabbed me. Asking how much my fag ass charged for a suck job.” Daryl pulled a cigarette out and lit it. He took a deep drag, his cheeks hollowing in with the force. Jesus watched as he breathed the smoke out, the trails of white curling into the air and disappearing. “Merle came out of nowhere, fists flyin’. Dumb motherfucker didn’t stand a chance, Merle dropped him to the ground and was kickin’ him. Kept yellin, “What’d you call my brother?” until the trucker wasn’t movin’. Barkeep’d already called the law, so I’m jerkin’ on Merle’s shirt tellin’ him we gotta go. Merle takes all the cash out the guy’s wallet, looks up and tells the bar, “Let him know when he wakes, ain’t nobody straight or fucking queer gonna suck a piece of shit like ‘im off.” Jesus yearned to ask him if he was gay, almost opened his mouth to speak, but Daryl kept going. “We was stayin’ with this stripper Merle knew. He pulled me right into the kitchen, grabbed his knife, and started cutting my hair off. He didn’t say nothin’, just kept cutting until there wasn’t nothing left to cut.”

Jesus heard the hitch in Daryl’s voice. He wondered if that had been Daryl’s dream or if something about it reminded Daryl of his brother and this memory. “How’d he die?”

“Went out in a blaze of bullets,” Daryl said, “like he would’ve wanted. Did the first unselfish thing of his life, got turned for it. Had to...couldn’t’ve left him like that.”

Jesus reached forward and placed his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl flinched, but he didn’t move away from it. “Thank you.”

“For what,” Daryl asked without looking up from the ground. 

“Sharing with me. You are...I want to get to know you.” 

Daryl’s eyes flashed up quickly, taking in Jesus’ stance and face as if he was expecting some other motive. “Why?”

Jesus shrugged, “I need a reason? You are a good person.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I don’t need to know you to know that. Your family, they love you and you clearly love them. That says a lot about the kind of person you are. You were the one that offered to go get Craig and fight someone for us, all for food to feed your people.”

Daryl looked away, back down at the ground, but Jesus could see a faint color on his cheeks. “Ain’t a big deal.”

“It kind of is,” Jesus said. “You’ve seen Negan, I’m sure others, that let this world make them cold. They forget how to love and they let everything bad consume them. You haven't let this world drag you down, you still protect and love the people who are important to you.”

Daryl didn’t say anything but Jesus could tell he was processing. He hoped that he hadn’t pushed too far or said too much. He liked Daryl, felt an attraction to the other man that ran deeper than pretty blue eyes and strong arms. Something about Daryl, about a man who could have let things make him bitter and angry and broken instead made him stronger; made Jesus want to know more, to crawl inside of his head just to see how it worked. “Sun’s comin’ up.”

Jesus followed Daryl’s gaze, to the first burst of color in the sky. “World keeps turning, huh?”

Daryl nodded and they stood, side by side, watching the sun come up.


	5. Confessions

"You have to stay here.”

Daryl growled and stood up off the wall he’d been leaning on. “Ain’t gonna make me.”

Rick rolled his eyes and Daryl felt the need to punch him in the jaw. “Alexandria will be the first place Negan’ll look for you. I’m not risking it.”

“He can find me here just as easy,” Daryl said. 

“Actually,” Jesus spoke up and Daryl whipped his head around and glared. He’d grudgingly admitted to himself that he was comfortable in the other man’s company and that they got along pretty well, but he wasn’t about to let anyone talk him out of going home. “I have a few places you could hide if they come, places no one knows about.”

“See,” Daryl glared at Jesus again before turning to Rick. Rick placed a hand on Daryl’s shoulder, “You know I want you to come back, right? It’s not a matter of that, I need you safe. I can’t…” tears filled Rick’s eyes and Daryl shifted uncomfortably, “I can’t lose you too.”

He wanted to argue that he can’t help if he wasn’t with Rick. But the look the man was giving him, that pleading look to please just stay safe, made his argument catch in his throat. “Ain’t just gonna hide.”

“I’ve got a job for you,” Jesus said. “My people, they need to know how to fight. You and Sasha can teach them.”

“Ain’t much of a teacher,” Daryl muttered.

“I’ll help too,” Jesus said. 

Rick smiled softly and took another step closer to Daryl. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “Daryl, please do this for me. Keep safe, help these people. I promise, no one is trying to get rid of you. I’ll even send Aaron and Eric over in a few weeks to check on progress. They miss you.”

Daryl nodded and accepted the hug Rick gave him. He watched him leave, refusing to head out and say goodbye to the rest of them. Jesus stood at his side silently but Daryl could feel the tension in him. “Speak yer mind, ain’t like you’ve had a problem doin’ it before.”

“I’m sorry, that you can’t go back with them and that you are stuck in the walls.” Jesus shifted from foot to foot, nervous energy radiating off him. “I’m glad you are staying though.”

“Pft,” Daryl said and knocked his good shoulder against Jesus’. Jesus smiled brightly and Daryl ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

-x-

Teaching the Hilltop people to fight was like pulling teeth. Even with the walker attack before Daryl’s arrival, they lacked the motivation to fight. Most of them, like the Alexandrians, had lived behind the walls and never had to see the horrors on the other side. Normally, Sasha handled half of the group and Jesus and Daryl took the second half. But Jesus had gone on a three day run and Daryl loathed to admit that he missed him. They worked well as a team, Daryl taught by show and Jesus translated into words. It was almost fun when Jesus was there, cracking jokes and flitting around the people. Without him there, Daryl’s day had turned long and exhausting. 

He made his way over to the empty trailer he’d been crashing in the past few weeks, shucked his shoes off at the door, and fell face first into the bed. “Hey.”

Daryl jumped, landing on his feet on the floor with his knife in front of him. Sitting on the chair in his room, still dressed in that stupid beanie and coat, was Jesus. “What the fuck you doin’ in here?”

“Just got back,” Jesus said with a bright smile. “I see you didn’t kill anyone without me.”

Daryl sheathed his knife and sat at the edge of the bed, “Might’ve if one more of ‘em complained about you not being there.”

“Aww, they missed me. I’m touched.” Jesus placed his hand over his heart dramatically. “How about you? You miss me?”

Daryl grunted back in reply, “Whatcha want?”

“I was wondering,” Jesus said softly, “if you wanted to hang out?” 

He watched the other man’s eyes dart around the room and Daryl was confused. Since when did he ask, he usually just popped up and followed Daryl around. “You got somethin’ in mind?”

Jesus grinned, “Yep.” Daryl rolled his eyes at the other man popping the last letter. “It’s a surprise though. Meet me at the back wall in ten?” Daryl nodded and watched as Jesus practically bounced out of the trailer. He shook his head and stood up, stretching out before putting his boots back on. Jesus was standing at the back gate, eyes darting around as the sun settled behind them. “You need this,” he said and held out a baseball cap. 

“Why?”

“In case of emergencies,” Jesus replied. “Now, you gotta make me two promises. First, you have to promise that you’ll never use this unless it’s an emergency.”

“Use what?” Daryl nearly laughed at the attempt to stare him down that Jesus gave him. “Fine, promise.”

“And second, you have to promise to run if I tell you to. You can’t even think about it, you just have to do it. You have to swear it to me.”

The grave tone of Jesus’ voice was something Daryl had never heard before. He nodded, “I swear,” before even thinking about it. 

“Awesome, let’s go.” Jesus stepped forward to the wall and pulled. Three of the planks shifted forward and Daryl leaned in to see that a makeshift, almost invisible hinge, was holding them together. “Remember, you swore. If we get caught by anyone, you have to run back and into the hidden bookcase in the house.” Daryl nodded and followed Jesus out. It was the first time since they’d visited the Kingdom that he’d left the walls of the Hilltop. He didn’t hate it, but like Alexandria, he’d started to feel caged. 

Daryl followed Jesus, who weaved through the woods and covered his tracks expertly. They traveled for a while until Daryl heard the babbling of water that could only mean a creek. Jesus stopped short and Daryl skidded to halt behind him. An old stone bridge, barely a few feet off the ground, arched over the small creek. “What’s this?”

“Found it a few months ago,” Jesus whispered. “I come here to...relax I guess.” Jesus settled down on the bridge, his feet dangling barely above the running water. He pulled his backpack off and reached inside, grabbing an apple and taking a bite. 

Daryl shifted his weight and looked around. It was peaceful, reminding him of better times and hunting with his brother. He wasn’t sure what this was, this strange feeling creeping up his neck that did nothing for his nerves. 

“You gonna sit,” Jesus asked softly? “You don’t get your present if you stay all the way over there.”

Something about Jesus’ tone caused Daryl to flush. He’d noticed that the other man had become more friendly and teasing with him, but he was like that with everyone and Daryl paid it no mind. Here though it was just the two of them, and it was starting to feel like something Daryl couldn’t even put into words. “What present?”

Jesus smirked, “Ruin the surprise if I tell you. Well, half of it was getting you out of the walls. Come on, sit.”

Daryl took another look around and carefully sat down next to Jesus. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Jesus said, “you can have your present.” Jesus reached into the bag and handed Daryl a long box. Daryl opened the lid, finding twelve arrows with bright orange fletching. Daryl looked up to see Jesus’ bright smile again. “I left the crossbow in the trailer, it was heavier than I thought it’d be.”

Daryl looked back down at the arrows, fingering each one gently. His stomach felt like it was churning and his throat was tight. “I…”

“I found it during the run and I figured, you never got yours back right?” Jesus shifted nervously and started to babble. “I think these were the right kind for the crossbow and they had a whole section but I couldn’t carry a whole lot without drawing more attention and I didn’t want anyone…” Daryl cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. Jesus nodded and looked a bit shell shocked, looking down at the finger that was still pressed softly to his lips. He looked back up, catching Daryl’s eyes, and pressed a kiss to the tip of the finger. 

Daryl flushed and dropped the finger and his gaze. The churning in his stomach was only growing stronger and he didn’t know what the hell to think. “I’m sorry,” Jesus whispered. “It’s just...I like you.”

Daryl twisted an arrow between his fingers. “Stop.”

Jesus moved, reaching out and using a finger to turn Daryl’s cheek and meet his eyes. “I’m betting no one’s said it to you before. And look, I’ll completely understand if you want me to back off. But I think you like me too.”

“I…” Daryl didn’t know what he was going to say. He started to say he wasn’t gay, but he didn’t think that was exactly true. Not that he’d had much, or any, experience with romantic feelings. He hadn’t ever had time to think about it, between his childhood and keeping Merle out of trouble and then the damned apocalypse. He could admit that he liked Jesus as a person, enjoyed having him around. He’d never forget all the things he’d done for Daryl when they’d gotten back from Negan’s, how he stayed awake to make sure Daryl didn’t hurt himself. How he walked with him when he felt caged, listened to him or talked to him depending on what he needed. How Jesus always seemed to know what Daryl needed. “Shit.”

Jesus didn’t pull away, instead he cupped Daryl’s cheek. “I’m not expecting anything, okay?” Daryl leaned into the touch, just barely. The only person who’d ever touched him like that had been Carol and they’d been too close as friends for him to ever think of her as anything else. Or maybe, she’d been the wrong gender. Thoughts swirled around his head, making it hard to shut the voices out. “Hey, Daryl look at me.” Daryl’s eyes snapped up and met the blue eyes before him. It calmed him, seeing those clear eyes staring back at him with no hint of malice or joking in them. “Tell me what you are thinking.”

“I dunno.” Daryl ducked his head, breaking out of the invisible hold that Jesus had on him. Jesus’ hand fell and he let it rest on his knee. It was like the man didn’t want to break the touch. 

“That’s okay,” Jesus whispered. “It’s okay to be confused and scared. I promise you Daryl, I’m not joking. I could give you a long list of all the reasons I like you and you’d probably never believe half of them. But...we connect. I think about you when you aren’t around. I find myself watching you just to see that you are there. And it’s crazy and fast and strange, but I have to let myself feel it. If you...if you don’t think you feel that way for me, I’ll understand and it won’t change anything, I swear. You’d still be my friend and I’d never tell…”

Daryl held his finger up again. “Ye ramble on when yer nervous,” he whispered. Jesus laughed softly, the breaths of air curling around the pad of Daryl’s finger. His gut lurched and his instincts told him to run. He dropped his finger quickly and curled his body away. 

“I am nervous,” Jesus whispered. “Terrified actually. I dated before all this shit and that was easy but kind of meaningless. And I hooked up with someone here in the beginning, but you learn quick that you gotta mean it for real if you want to be with someone now. You have to know that for whatever time you have, cause some days it feels like it's not much, you are going to want to spend it with that person. And Daryl,” Jesus shifted to turn and face Daryl fully, “I want that with you. However I can have it, however you want it to go.”

Daryl looked down at the arrows and wished he knew what to say. Or better yet, someone to talk to about it. Aaron and Eric were going to be there tomorrow and Daryl loathed to admit, they'd be his best choice. He'd been open with them in the past, over dinner and drinks and working in the garage. “Can I think about it?”

“Yeah of course,” Jesus said with a smile so wide Daryl thought his face would split. 

“Why you grinnin’ like that?”

“It's better than a no,” he said, “and I have hope. Come on, we'd better get back. Besides, you've got a crossbow to try out now.”


	6. Advice

Daryl was in the middle of a lesson when the gates opened. Since no one warned them, it was most likely the Alexandrian guests. Daryl halted the class, most of them had stopped paying attention anyway, and walked towards the gate. The car pulled up and Daryl could see that Morgan was driving. He'd taken up being the Kingdom’s envoy and Daryl figured he must have been in Alexandria the days before. The back doors opened and a blur of movement tackled into him. Daryl barely remained upright, “the hell?”

Aaron came up in front of him and smiled. “We missed you.”

Eric pulled away to keep Daryl at arms length and look him over. “They said you were shot. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Daryl muttered. 

“Let the man go Eric,” Aaron said. “You doing okay?”

Daryl nodded, “You?”

“We've been good. Missing our dinners with the resident grumpy hunter,” Aaron said with a smirk. Daryl missed them too, even if he wouldn't say it out loud. His connection to Eric and Aaron was important to him and different than with anyone else. 

“Got dinner covered tonight,” Daryl said. He chanced a look over to Jesus, who'd helped him get everything he needed. He was talking to Morgan and Maggie but he turned when he felt Daryl staring. Daryl ducked his head, hiding behind the curtain of hair. 

Eric grinned at Aaron, “so you made any friends?”

“Few,” Daryl said.

Aaron followed the gaze and frowned. “Who's that guy?”

“Rovia,” Daryl grunted out. “Brought me back from Negan’s.”

“Hmm, isn't he the one they call Jesus? Seems a little weird, walking around letting people call you Jesus.”

Eric swatted Aaron’s shoulder, “Hush you. Daryl's got a crush.”

“Ain't got no damn crush,” Daryl defended.

“Oh honey, you blush bright red just looking at him.” Eric smiled brightly, “so, what's going on there?”

“Eric, leave it alone.”

Jesus bounded up to them, “Hey. Whatcha guys talking about?”

“Nothin’,” Daryl said quickly. 

Jesus raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Ok. Well I was gonna let you know that there's been a slight change in plans but everything should be ready on time.” He grinned at Aaron and Eric, “Got to run. Nice to meet you guys, I'm nothing.”

Daryl watched him bounce off and growled at Eric’s gleeful expression. “I like him.”

“You would,” Aaron said. “What's he talking about? You got plans?”

“Got some help, made some spaghetti.”

Aaron grinned and reached forward, giving into the urge to hug Daryl. “I'm glad you are okay.”

-x-

They sat down to eat in Daryl’s trailer, Aaron and Daryl on the couch and Eric in a small chair. “This is good,” Eric said. 

“Nothing on yours though,” Aaron said with a wink. He turned, watching Daryl pick at the noodles. “Ok, spill.”

“Isn't that my line?” Eric put his bowl down on the table and turned his full attention to Daryl. 

“Ain't nothin’...”

“Don't you even try it Daryl Dixon. First, you turn red as a tomato when you look at the man. Second, you have barely touched your dinner. You know you can talk to us.”

Daryl shifted in his seat and twirled his fork in his bowl. “He said he liked me.”

“Jesus,” Aaron asked and Daryl nodded confirmation. “Ok, well could he have meant like a friend?”

“No,” Daryl said and he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “This's stupid,” he went to get up. 

Aaron reached over, placing his hand on his knee and forcing the other man to stay seated. “It's not stupid. And you know, you don't ever have to be embarrassed or ashamed or afraid with us.”

“We'd die before we would tell a soul about anything you tell us,” Eric added. “We want you to be happy and we know it's hard for you to open up. But you can trust us.”

“I do,” Daryl said fiercely. He knew that his inability to express his feelings sometimes left others wondering and that seemed to be another sign that whatever Jesus wanted wasn't going to work with a guy like him. “How'd you know?”

“That we were gay? Well I came out of the womb singing show tunes, or at least that's what my mother would say.” Eric smiled fondly, “I always knew.”

Aaron sighed dramatically, “He's always got to make things look easy, Mr. ‘oh I always knew’,” he teased. “I was engaged to a woman actually. I grew up in a small Virginia town and being gay wasn't even a option. I met a girl and we were planning to get hitched. I wasn't running through the fields of flowers happy, but I was content. We went to D.C. for a friend’s bachelor party and I got really drunk. Woke up in my hotel room with this guy staring at me from the couch.”

“He was so pitiful. He'd been drinking in the bar for a while before I showed up. I was just dropping off a business colleague and thought I'd enjoy a drink before heading home. He looked so sad, so I started talking to him. And boy did he need to talk. He kept going on and on about getting married and everything being wrong and how unhappy he was. Then he kind of passed out. The staff helped me get him upstairs.”

Aaron ducked his head, his cheeks flushing. “I made a fool of myself. But Eric stayed to make sure I'd be okay. He didn't even know me, it was just the kind of person he was. We went to breakfast and he asked me if I ever thought I might be attracted to men. Of course, small town southern guy, I was in total denial. But the truth was, I had never even considered it.”

“So I gave him my number and told him he could call me whenever he needed,” Eric smiled and reached over to pat Aaron’s knee. “He was so cute I couldn't resist. But I didn't think he'd ever call and he almost waited too long. I'd been seeing a guy and it wasn't a bad relationship, but there wasn't a spark. He wanted to move to L.A. and he'd ask me to go with him. I was going to say yes, but Aaron walked back into my life.”

Daryl looked between the two of them. He'd seen a whirlwind romance before, between Glenn and Maggie. He assumed that the apocalypse had something to do with it, he didn't think people connected just like that. “Ya stole him away?”

Aaron laughed, “I guess I did. I spent a lot of time thinking and I figured that even if he was wrong and I was straight, I still wasn't happy. So I ended my engagement and I moved to D.C. We started hanging out and we just clicked. He understood me and I understood him. I felt happy when I was with him. Don't get me wrong, once I realized that there were feelings there, I was terrified. I still don't think I'm gay, so much as I wanted Eric. I see other men and I think ‘oh he’s attractive’ but I don't have any desire to be with them and I do the same for women.”

“He says he's Eric-sexual.” Eric rolled his eyes teasingly. “So, when did he tell you he liked you?”

“Yesterday,” Daryl answered. 

“And how'd you feel when he told you?”

“Figured he'd been dropped on the head.” Daryl begin chewing on the skin around his thumb nail. “Ain't much to like.”

Eric sighed, “If that were true, you wouldn't have the whole lot of us that care about you.”

Aaron nodded in agreement. “I know it's hard for you to accept that there are good things about you and we know why. But you'd been doing real well in Alexandria with accepting that the people around you genuinely love and care for you. Why would this guy be different?”

“He don't know me,” Daryl muttered. 

“Well, that's true. But I think he reads people a lot better than some. Besides, it doesn't take long to see you are a good man.” Aaron shifted, facing Daryl on the couch. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

Eric shrugged, “Go with it. Trust him.”

Daryl let his eyes shut. “Okay, listen to my voice,” Aaron whispered the words and Daryl listened intently. “Imagine Jesus. Think about one thing that sets him apart from everyone, something you can focus on. His eyes, his smile, etc. Do you have something?” Daryl nodded. “Now focus on that feature, breath in and breath out. Tell me what it is.”

“His smile,” Daryl breathed out. 

“Focus on how it make you feel. Block out everything else and just focus on his smile and the way you feel when he smiles at you.” Aaron watched as Daryl’s chest rose with each deep breath in and how his hands had started to shake. “You don't have say it out loud but I want you to say the answer to this question in your head. Just answer, don't think. Do you like Jesus?”

Daryl's eyes snapped open. His breathing quickened and his eyes darted around. “Shit.”

Eric moved, kneeling beside Daryl. “You okay?” Daryl didn't answer, so Eric reached over and took his hand. “You know, it's okay to be scared. I know, you ain't scared of anything. But for this, something so new and strange, it's okay to feel confused and lost and afraid. But it's also okay to feel excited and happy and safe.”

Daryl leaned over, just enough that he shoulder was resting against Eric’s. Eric wrapped his other arm around Daryl’s shoulder. “What do I do?”

“What you want,” Aaron answered. “If you want to spend time with him, do that. If you want to touch him, as long as he's comfortable with it, do that. If you want to talk with him and let him guide you, do that. Do whatever makes you happy. It's going to be scary and sometimes you are gonna want to run. And you can, you can always stop things and step away for a breath. But if you truly want to try, you have to keep going back no matter how much you want to run.”

Through the curtain of hair, both men could see the tears shining in Daryl's eyes. “Thank you,” he grunted out. 

-x- 

Aaron left Daryl and Eric to their pasta while making an excuse to see Maggie. He found Jesus sitting on the steps of the main house and stopped in front of him. “I'm Aaron.”

“Paul,” Jesus extended his hand, “but my friends call me Jesus.”

Aaron cautiously took his hand. “What are your intentions with Daryl?”

“You his dad?” Jesus smirked and quickly let it fade with Aaron's withering glare. "I like him. A lot. He's quiet and smart and beautiful inside and out. I think there's so much more to him that I haven't even seen but I'm dying to. I want to protect him even though I know he doesn't need it and would likely punch me for trying. Just being near him...it's this calming and yet terrifying feeling. Like standing on the shore of the ocean and staring at this strong, magnificent thing that is so much more than what it seems.”

Aaron nodded, “It won't be easy.”

“Best things usually aren't.”

“If you break his heart, I'll kill you.” Aaron turned and walked towards Maggie's trailer, feeling slightly more content about this situation than before.


	7. Sparing

Jesus watched from his window as Daryl, Eric, and Aaron emerged from his trailer. Maggie and Sasha were packing the car and the group begin to say their goodbyes. Jesus felt envious, watching the ease of which the two men reached out and hugged Daryl and chided himself for the selfish feeling. Daryl needed that kind of connection with people and Jesus wouldn’t want to take it away from him. He wondered if Daryl, Sasha, and Maggie would stay after the war was over or if they’d head back to Alexandria. Melancholy began to take over his mood and Jesus shook his head to clear it. Now wasn’t the time to wonder about what ifs, it was the time to live each day. He briefly entertained the idea of bugging Daryl or Maggie, but his mood wasn’t in the right frame to be his normal teasing self. He’d go train, the physical exertion and the satisfaction of honing his skills always brought him out of a funk. He changed quickly into some loose sweats and tank top, grabbed a bottle of water and towel, and headed out the door. 

They didn’t really have a gym, but Jesus had convinced Gregory to allow him to set up a small section in the basement of the house for any workout equipment he found. He was always on the lookout for useful items during runs and they had a pretty good selection. He’d found some weights, which had been a bitch to haul back, and a punching bag that had needed just a little bit of love. He began his stretching, relishing in the feeling of his muscles moving with the motions. He started a simple routine, practicing out steps and kicks and punches. He wished, not for the first time, that he had a sparing partner. Someone to match his moves so that he could practice how to avoid and reattack an opponent. He turned, throwing a leg in the air, and stumbled back down. “Shit,” he winced, landing on the hard ground. 

There was a small sound, like a choked back laugh, and Jesus looked up. Daryl was standing at the bottom of the basement stairs. “Didn’t mean to laugh,” he blushed. 

“It’s okay,” Jesus smiled. “I probably look ridiculous.”

Daryl shrugged, “Got to keep sharp. Where’dcha learn this?”

Jesus stood carefully and arched the kink out of his back. “Here and there,” he responded. “I took karate when I was a kid and just kept dabbling in it. It was never useful until the world went to shit. It works for me, I don’t really like guns.”

“Knives yer thing, right?” Jesus nodded and Daryl shifted to lean against the wall. “Close combat is dangerous.”

“Lucky I’m fast.” Jesus winked and wondered if Daryl was thinking about the chase in the field. “Your friends left?” 

“Mhm,” Daryl said, muffled by the thumb he was chewing on that Jesus found adorable. “Plans comin’ along?”

Jesus nodded his head, “Slowly. Even though Gregory is still technically leader, Maggie and Sasha are the ones helping the planning. It’s going to be big and messy, that’s for sure.”

“War usually is,” Daryl grunted and Jesus wondered just how much the man had seen in his life. 

Jesus bounced on the balls of his feet, restless energy flowing through his body. “Wanna spar with me? It’d be handy, having someone avoid and attack, keeps me sharp.”

Daryl’s eyes darted around the room, like a nervous animal waiting to bolt. Jesus didn’t expect for him to nod. “Guess so,” he said. He stepped forward into the room. 

“Awesome,” Jesus said and he knew that his excitement was barely contained. Daryl stopped a few feet in front of him. “So, you just attack and I’ll try to overtake you.”

“Don’t wanna hurt ya,” Daryl muttered. 

Jesus smiled softly and resisted the urge to reach out and touch the other man. “Well you’ve got the strength but I’m faster. Plus, I’m not afraid of a little pain,” he couldn’t resist the wink and the flush on Daryl’s cheeks was a bonus. “Okay?”

Daryl didn’t respond verbally, but he did move. He attempted a straightforward attack, which Jesus easily avoided. Jesus brought a fist up, but Daryl blocked it with his hand. His fingers clasped over Jesus’ fist and twisted. Jesus went with it, rather than fight it, and broke free. He ducked under the arm, kicking up and landing a solid hit to Daryl’s thigh. The other man grunted, grabbing Jesus’ leg. Jesus went down, his shoulder hitting the floor. He twisted, attempting to get out of Daryl’s grasp, and broke free. He skidded along the ground, used his hands against the floor, and pushed back up. 

Daryl had moved back and Jesus watched as he assessed him with his eyes each time he dodged the next few attacks. Jesus kept moving and thought he’d easily blocked Daryl’s next rush. He was almost out of reach when Daryl reached out and grabbed his elbow. He squeezed, which caused pain to shoot up Jesus’ arm. He used the leverage on Jesus’ elbow to pull him forward, kicked a foot out to trip Jesus, and followed him as he went down. Daryl’s knee pressed into Jesus’ stomach and he pinned his arms to the ground. He twisted, trying to break the hold, and failed. “Damn it. How’d you do that?”

“Ya always move to the right,” Daryl huffed out. His breaths were coming in quick little pants and his hair dripped with sweat. 

Jesus twisted again, “You gonna let me up?”

“Ain’t decided yet,” Daryl said and Jesus marveled in the small twitch of the man’s lip. He was teasing him. “Ain’t so fast, huh?”

“Guess not,” Jesus breathed out, “but I’m not complaining.”

Daryl flushed and shuffled away from Jesus. He stood up and reached down, offering the other man his hand. “Did good though,” he muttered. 

“The deepest of compliments,” Jesus bowed and relished in the snort Daryl let out. He reached up, stretching his arms over his head. If it caused his tank top to raise up a little, well he couldn’t help that. He sneaked a look over at Daryl, who was still bright red and trying to look somewhere other than Jesus. He rolled his shoulders and neck before bringing his arms back down. “I guess strength wins out in the end though.”

“Ya gotta be less predictable,” Daryl said. “Ya move to the right too much.”

“Guess I should practice using my left as dominant,” Jesus said. “Thanks, for the advice and the practice. I never asked though, did you need something when you came down here?”

Daryl shook his head, a curtain of hair falling in front of his face. “Naw.”

Jesus smiled. If Daryl hadn’t needed something, that meant that the other man had intentionally sought him out. He reached over and grabbed his water, downing half of it before handing it to Daryl. He accepted and Jesus made sure their fingers brushed together as he handed off the bottle. He watched, fascinated by the other man’s throat as he downed the rest of it. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Life,” Daryl capped the now empty bottle and handed it over. 

“I’m sorry,” Jesus whispered. He hadn’t meant to bring up bad memories. 

Daryl shrugged, “Is what it is. Useful now I guess.”

“Sure, but...you shouldn’t have to fight your whole life.” Jesus threw the empty bottle on the table. “You deserve better than that.”

“Pft,” Daryl shifted on his feet and ducked his head. 

Jesus stepped forward, braving the chance to reach out and touch Daryl’s shoulder, “You don’t deserve what they did to you, you know that right?” They hadn’t really talked about the imprisonment or the guilt Jesus knew Daryl carried with Glenn’s death. He knew enough to know that Daryl had reacted as he always had, lashing out to protect his family. He couldn’t have known that Negan would pick someone else to punish. “You aren’t just a soldier.”

Daryl’s eyes snapped up, “All I’m good at.”

“Well, I highly doubt that.” Jesus took another step so that barely a few feet separated them. He braved moving his hand, tucking the other man’s hair behind his ear. Daryl didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Jesus could see his body shaking, “What I mean is, you aren’t disposable. You are worth something, to your family and to me.”

Daryl’s eyes cast downward and he shook his head. 

Jesus cupped his cheek, tilting so the man would look at him. “I would kill whoever made you doubt that in an instant.” He rocked forward slowly, settling on the tips of his toes, and pressed a quick kiss to Daryl’s cheek. He flinched but Jesus hoped it was involuntary. He waited for Daryl to break away, the silence filling the air between them. 

Whatever debate was rolling around in Daryl’s head, he didn’t move away. Jesus felt him lean into the hand on his cheek. “Ain’t no one ever…” Daryl lost the words, his voice trailing off. Jesus watched as his eyes flashed emotions that seemed to rage inside him. He’d given anything to be able to read his mind, to know what he was fighting, to help him fight it. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jesus whispered. “You know, I think we could consider this a date. If...you wanted to?” Jesus couldn’t help the nervous quiver in his voice but the reward of Daryl nodding felt like the best gift ever. “So, you thought about it?”

Jesus didn’t want to push Daryl but he needed a confirmation. “I like you too.” It was barely spoken above a whisper and if Jesus hadn’t been intensely listening, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. 

He breathed out, deeply relieved and surprised. He had a gut feeling that Daryl liked him too, but he hadn’t expected the other man to admit to it. Whatever conversation he’d had with Eric and Aaron had clearly helped and he wondered if it’d be cocky to send them a fruit basket or something. He was intimately aware that his hand was still cupping Daryl’s cheek. He moved it and reached out to take his hand. It was shaking, but Jesus linked their fingers and squeezed softly. “I’m honored,” he whispered. Daryl let out another scoff, but Jesus ignored it. “Do you want to talk about this?” Daryl shrugged and Jesus took it as a sign that Daryl probably needed him to guide things a little. “How about we go for a walk tonight? It will be our second date.”

Daryl’s eyes, which had been locked on their connected hands, flickered up to meet Jesus’. With his hair tucked behind his ear, Jesus could actually see the blue orbs clearly. “Sure.” Jesus didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Daryl actually responded. He smiled brightly.

“Jesus!” Gregory’s yelled from somewhere upstairs. Daryl flew backwards and almost immediately looked guilty for the action. 

“It’s okay,” Jesus whispered. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” He waited until Daryl nodded before bouncing up the stairs, his melancholy mood from earlier completely gone.


	8. Date

Daryl’s skin itched and he wanted more than anything to be outside the walls. Instead, he’d locked himself in his trailer and allowed himself the freedom to fully freak the fuck out. As they were leaving, Eric had whispered to “grow some balls and find his man” which Daryl had knocked him in the shoulder for. But once they were gone and Daryl was left standing there, he realized he _wanted_ to go find Jesus. The idea of that alone was terrifying, but he remembered what Aaron has said and decided it was about time for him to face his fears. He hadn’t expected to find Jesus heading towards the basement but he’d followed silently. Now, here he was, a few minutes away from their walk, and freaking out. A knock sounded on his door and Daryl flinched away from it. He couldn’t do this. He shook his head because the voices that told him that sounded like people who didn’t care about him. A voice, that sounded a lot like Aaron, told him he could do this. He walked over and opened the door. 

“Hey,” Jesus said with a bright smile and bouncing a little on his feet. “You ready.” He was wearing a white button down and had a backpack on his shoulders, his hair loose down his back. Daryl wondered how his hair always looked so clean and soft.

Daryl nodded, stepping out of the trailer and shutting the door. They’d chosen a time when most of the residents of the Hilltop would be asleep and the quiet of the night surrounded them. 

Jesus led and they walked towards the back wall. It was more secluded, which Daryl knew was Jesus’ reasoning. He shuffled behind him, his nerves feeling frayed. “Maggie told Gregory off again,” Jesus said. 

“Deserved it,” Daryl added. Gregory was a prick and Daryl could slowly see the people of the Hilltop looking to Maggie for guidance. He knew that Rick left Gregory in place as a cover, but Daryl felt the man was a coward and there was nothing more dangerous than a coward. 

“He did and it was super fun to watch.” Jesus headed towards the farthest section of the wall, hidden in shadows. “So I know I said walk but, I’m sort of exhausted.”

Daryl had been steadily avoiding looking at the other man. Once he did, he noticed that Jesus was moving slower than he usually did and walking with most of his weight on his right leg. “You hurt?”

Jesus shook his head, “I took your advice and starting training myself to lead and fight with my left side more, once Gregory finally let me go for the day. I’m just sore.” 

“Sit,” Daryl said as they came to the wall. Jesus obeyed, sitting with his back against the wall and his legs stretched out in front of him. Daryl sat beside him, keeping at least a foot of space between them. Without walking around, the chill of the air settled over them and Daryl wondered if they should have brought jackets. 

Jesus opened the backpack and pulled out a blanket. He draped it over his lap and held the other edge up for Daryl. He had to scoot closer, their shoulders a few inches away from each other, and he draped the other end over his own lap. It helped fight the chill and Daryl wasn't shocked anymore on how Jesus always seemed prepared for anything. “It’s a nice night.”

“Mhm,” Daryl begin chewing on his thumb nail. Carol used to chide him for it but he’d been doing since he was a kid and wasn’t sure he’d even be able to stop if he tried. 

Silence fell between them and Daryl kept waiting for it to be awkward. Instead, as the minutes passed by, it felt...good. He took to breathing calmly and began to acclimate himself to the feeling of another person being in his space. Jesus broke the silence, “You good?” Daryl nodded, leaning back against the wall and letting some of the tension out of his body. “So, you want to talk about this?”

“Not really,” Daryl grunted. 

Jesus chuckled softly and Daryl could feel the air around his body shift with him. They were almost touching and the closeness of the other man was occupying all of Daryl’s thoughts. “Well I know it’s not exactly easy but I’d feel better if I knew where your head was at. I don’t want to push you.”

Daryl looked over and caught the other man’s eyes. He found nothing in them except for sincerity. He’d spent a lifetime seeing eyes filled with anger, eyes that betrayed the rotten souls within. He thought back to Aaron, who’d told him that he could see the difference in good and bad people. He thought about Carol and how her eyes had always been bright and clear, despite all the terrible shit she had to do. “I know.”

He tried to put as much meaning into it as he could and Jesus’ nod told him that he understood. He liked that about Jesus, liked that the man could read him and understand him with little words. “Can I hold your hand?” Daryl followed Jesus’ gaze, to where their hands were laying a few inches apart. He nodded and Jesus reached for him, turning Daryl’s hand palm up and resting his own on top. He laced his fingers, curling them over Daryl’s knuckles. Daryl followed suit and Jesus smiled. He liked Jesus’ smile. “Okay?” Daryl nodded. Silence washed back over them and Daryl knew that Jesus was waiting for Daryl to relax. It took a while before the tension melted away and he was used to the feeling of someone’s touch on him. He took deep breaths, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. His breathing steadied and he squeezed Jesus’ hand. Jesus uncurled his fingers and began tracing his fingers over Daryl’s palm. He ran his fingers from the tips of Daryl’s fingers to his wrist, occasionally running circles through the middle of his palm. Daryl shivered, unaccustomed to such gentle touching. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Mhm,” Daryl responded. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on the sound of Jesus’ voice and the play of his fingers over his hand. 

“You said you liked me. Did you mean...as a friend?”

Daryl cracked his eyes open and looked over at him. “Yes,” he said, “and no.” 

Jesus smiled, “I understand. Do you want to...try this? A relationship?” 

“Dunno.”

“Don’t know as in you aren’t sure you want this or don’t know as in you don’t know what this entails?”

“Second,” Daryl responded. He found it easier like this, with Jesus asking him questions he could easily respond to. He’d wondered, when he decided to go find him earlier, how he was ever going to communicate how he felt to the other man. He should have realized that Jesus could read him like a book and would find a way for them to communicate. 

Jesus moved his fingers up Daryl’s wrist, running them along the inside of his arm. “Well I guess before all this, we would've gone to dinner and movies. I'm kind of making things up as I go along now. I think we just...spend time together. Get to know each other. You haven't asked what I'm doing.” He trailed his fingers along the vein in Daryl's arm. 

“Whatcha doin’?” Daryl smirked and the bright and honest smile he received back made his stomach flip. 

“Used to have this friend and she went through something. She found it hard to be touched and it was affecting her life. So her therapist suggested that we start with small touches. It helped her get used to the touches without anticipating something bad happening. We'd play with her hands and her arm, draw random things on her back, play with her hair. And her therapist encouraged her to do the same back. Her favorite thing was to lay my head in her lap and play with my hair, said it was the closest thing she'd get to a dog.”

“What happened to her?”

“She was kidnapped. By one of those people you hear about on the news but never think actually live in your town. She was real strong though and she got better. She fell in love, got married, had some kids. I always kind of hoped that she's out there somewhere, in a place like this. She was my hero.” Jesus smiled sadly and used his other hand to wipe away a tear. 

Daryl flicked his eyes away, he'd always been uncomfortable watching people cry. “It's good,” he whispered, “the touching.”

Jesus’ full grin settled back on his face. “Thanks, for telling me that. It helps to know that I'm not bothering you.” Daryl nodded and silence drifted back over them. Jesus’ fingers continued making random paths up and down Daryl’s arm and hand. “How'd you meet your family?” 

Daryl knew that it was a safe topic and that Jesus had asked to give Daryl a break from having to focus on something so new and terrifying. He found it easier to talk about things that had already happened, as long as it wasn't too personal. “Merle and I, we was just wondering around. When everythin’ went to hell, we was already in the woods. We drifted a bit, skirtin’ the big crowds. We found these people just outside Atlanta. Merle told me that we was gonna pretend to hang with ‘em, then we was gonna rob ‘em. All I had was Merle, so I done what always done and tagged ‘long. Weren't no time, Merle’d started grating on people's nerves. Thought they'd kick us out but ain't nobody had the heart to I guess. I went huntin’, figured I might as well help people eat. When I got back, new guy in cop’s uniform tells me he handcuffed Merle to a roof and left him there. Ain't no doubt he deserved it but he was my brother. So me and Rick, we headed back. Found the roof and Merle’s hand. He'd cut it off to escape, cauterize the stump, and left out.”

“Shit,” Jesus whistled. 

“He was a tough somabitch. Always said only a Dixon can kill a Dixon.” Daryl reached into his pocket for the matches and cigarettes. “You mind?”

Jesus shook his head and moved his hand. Daryl lit the cigarettes, taking a deep drag, and stuffed them back in his pocket. He moved it to the opposite hand and moved his hand back under Jesus’, hoping he'd understand. Jesus linked their fingers again. “So you went back with them.”

“Wanted to find him but hell, he could've been anywhere. Went back and we headed out. We lost a little girl, Carl got shot and I just… couldn't do it on my own. Ain't so tough I guess.”

“I don't think needing or wanting to be around people makes you weak” Jesus said. “I'm kind of jealous of you.” Daryl scoffed and Jesus smiled, “I'm serious. I mean, the people here are nice but I'm not close to them. I'm the best scout and fighter they have, so I get a lot of kind smiles and extra treats. But most people keep their distance. I don't have a connection to any of them. Doubt they'd miss me if I disappeared.”

Daryl squeezed his hand instinctively. “I would.” His cheeks heated up the minute he said it and he couldn't face looking at the other man. He could tell Jesus was watching him and the comfortable silence they'd been surround by suddenly felt different. The air was thicker between them. “Should call it a night, s’gettin’ cold.”

Jesus nodded, pushing himself off the ground. Daryl followed, folding up the blanket and handing it to him. Jesus stuffed it back in his backpack, throwing it on before turning towards Daryl. He grinned, “I had fun.” He reached out his hand and Daryl took it. Their fingers laced together and they started walking back to Daryl’s trailer. 

Daryl's mind was replaying every single thing, hoping he hadn't in some way messed anything up. The way Jesus was leaning just a bit into him, trying to share warmth, made him think things had gone just fine. The little voice in his head, this one sounding a lot like Eric, told him that he should do something. So he unlaced their fingers, threw an arm over his shoulder, and pulled the other man in. Jesus practically froze in shock, but he shifted and kept in step with Daryl. “Gonna be winter soon,” Daryl said. 

Jesus made a noise of agreement and Daryl took the chance to look down at him through his hair. Jesus’ eyes were wide and bright, his smile so large that it looked like it'd split his face. The warmth that had been blossoming in Daryl’s stomach all night, ignited his whole body. He felt...happy. Happy that he'd made Jesus smile like that and happy to be with him. They reached his door far sooner than he'd anticipated and reluctantly Jesus broke away from him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ain't gotta ask each time,” Daryl huffed. 

Jesus chuckled softly. “Alright. Can I kiss you?”

Daryl's eyes flew up to Jesus’ face. The other man was glancing at him nervously. He fought down the urge to bolt inside the trailer. He told himself that if he didn't like it, Jesus would understand. Jesus seemed to be the most understanding person he'd met. So he gathered up all the courage he could find and nodded.

Jesus smiled. He reached up and cupped Daryl's cheek. He leaned up and pressed his lips against Daryl's. It was soft and quick, barely a second. “Goodnight Daryl,” Jesus said in a soft whisper that Daryl could feel across his lips. 

“Night,” he replied. He watched Jesus bounce down the stairs before he walked into his trailer. Shutting the door behind him, he pressed a finger to his lips. Fuck. He was so screwed.


	9. Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a sort of filler chapter between all the fluff

Jesus woke up and stared at the ceiling. He'd only had a few hours of sleep but he didn't feel tired. He felt like he could fly. He hopped up out of bed and went about getting ready. He bounced down the stairs and out into the yard. Maggie, Sasha, and Enid were standing a few yards away and he headed towards them. “Good morning!”

Enid glared, “what's up with his face?”

Maggie giggled. “She's got a point Jesus. What's got you so happy?”

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Can't a guy just be happy?”

Sasha matched Enid’s look of skepticism. “Uh huh…”

Jesus caught sight of Daryl heading over to them. Time to change the topic. “So, how are the plans coming?”

“Incoming!!!” The two guards at the wall shouted. People of the Hilltop begin to rush around and Daryl headed towards them at a run. 

“Go,” Jesus hissed. Daryl grabbed Enid’s hand and the four of them ran off towards the house. Jesus stood his ground and waited. Sure enough, the gates open and a truck pulled through. It was a small group of them and Jesus sucked in a breath when Dwight exited. His blood boiled and his fingers twitched over the knife on his belt. 

“You,” Dwight said as he pointed to Jesus. “Come with me.”

Jesus followed as they headed into the house. Gregory was standing in the entrance hall when they entered the house. “What's going on?”

“Negan is looking for something. You just go back to your office. This one can show me around the house.” Dwight pointed and Jesus led the way. They entered every room, Dwight searching them all, before getting to the basement last. 

Jesus’ fist shook with the rage he felt bubbling in his body. They hit the bottom of the steps and Jesus moved quickly. He lunged, pressing Dwight against the wall with a knife pressed against his throat. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't cut your throat for what you did to him.”

Dwight’s eyes were wide with shock and fear. “There would be a punishment and you wouldn't be the one to pay it.” He looked down and when he looked back up, his eyes were filled with surrender. Jesus knew he was right. If he sliced his throat now, hell would be unleashed upon the Hilltop. He stepped away from Dwight and sheathed the knife. “You know where he is.”

“I don't,” Jesus growled in reply. 

Dwight shrugged, “I'm not here to find him. Negan’s more interested in using it as leverage against Rick than actually finding Daryl. He realized that he wouldn't be able to break him.” Dwight sighed, “I know you don't believe or don't care, but I'm sorry for it. I gave up my wife and I kneeled to keep her safe. I thought Daryl would understand, that he'd give in. Whoever or whatever kept him from giving up who he was, it was stronger than anything we could do. And I'm truly sorry for my part, it's why I slipped him the key.”

“You did that?”

Dwight reached into his bag and Jesus flinched away. Dwight pulled slowly until the leather vest was in his hands. “I told some story about ruining it. He should have it back.”

Jesus took the vest from Dwight’s extended hand. “He isn't here.”

“Well if you see him then,” Dwight said. “We should get back, hide that.”

Jesus shoved the vest into the drawer of the table and followed Dwight up. Gregory was standing on the steps of the house, his eyes shifting around. Dwight stepped away from Jesus and shook his head at the rest of Negan’s men. They loaded up the car and headed out. “You've put us all in trouble.”

“At least we are standing up and fighting,” he hissed back to Gregory. “This situation was a powder keg before the Alexandrians got involved. Or do you forget that they put a price on your head?”

“A misunderstanding,” he muttered. “It would all have been fine.”

“You are a coward,” Jesus growled. He stomped away and back into the basement. He knocked on the bookcase and pulled it open. “It's me.”

Jesus stepped back and watched them emerge from the secret room. Daryl came first, the point of his new crossbow facing out. Maggie and Enid came behind him with knives in hand, followed lastly by Sasha with her rifle. They lowered their weapons when they saw that no one was with him. “They gone?” Jesus nodded. Between Dwight and Gregory, he felt filled with rage and didn't think he could form words at the moment. 

“We should go,” Maggie said, “and check on people.” She gave Jesus a concerned look before sheathing her knife. Sasha placed her gun back in the hidden room and the three of them walked out. 

Daryl lowered the crossbow and stared. “What's wrong?”

Jesus balled his hands into fists. The anger, the resentment, the fear all rushed out of him. He screamed and Daryl’s eyes widened in a way that would have been comical if Jesus could think straight. The blood rushed through his ears and he lurched forward. Daryl jumped out of the way on instinct and Jesus hit the punching bag. Over and over again, Jesus fists hit the bag with a thump. He imagined Dwight’s scarred face beneath his fists or Gregory’s slimy smirk.

His hair was dripping with sweat and he'd started crying at some point, before Daryl stepped up behind the bag and held it steady. He didn't speak, he just held the bag and waited for Jesus to exhaust himself. It took a few more hits before Jesus fell against the bag and Daryl held it and him up. “Fuck.”

Daryl moved around, carefully moving Jesus from the bag to the floor. He leaned against the wall beside him. “You okay?”

Jesus nodded. He took deep breaths, felt the air as it entered and left his body. He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and ran his hands through his limp hair. “I'm sorry.”

“Whatcha apologizing to me for?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “I'm not usually the fall apart and go nuts kind of guy.” He stood up and looked over at Daryl. He expected pity or even judgement in the other man’s eyes, but all he found was concern. “Between the Saviors and Gregory and fucking Dwight…”

Daryl nodded in understanding. Jesus watched as Daryl had some sort of inner conversation with himself, gnawing on his bottom lip in thought. Jesus was going to say something but Daryl moved first. He took a step forward and reached out, taking Jesus’ hand and lacing their fingers together. Jesus’ words died in his throat and he had to remind himself to close his mouth. It was the first time that Daryl had initiated contact between them. He looked into the other’s eyes and understood. Daryl couldn't form the words or explain the feelings, but he could do this. He could reach out and connect. It was such a huge step that the enormity of it settled in Jesus’ heart. They stood in silence, hands linked and eyes on each other. Jesus breathed in and out until his body relaxed and the raging feelings had drained out of him. It left him feeling just that, drained. “You okay?”

Jesus nodded and reluctantly broke away. He headed over to the desk and pulled out the leather vest. He turned and extended it to Daryl. The other man reached out carefully, as if it wasn't quite real. He took the leather in his hands and ran a finger along it. Jesus watched as Daryl took a deep breath and slid his arms into it. Jesus reached forward and pulled it into place on his shoulders. “You look like you.”

Daryl scoffed but Jesus could see. Whatever this vest meant to him, it meant the world to have it back. 

Jesus felt his exhaustion then. His hands were a mess, cracked and bloody, and he felt dead on his feet. “I need to see Dr. Carson,” he said with a wince. Daryl's eyes drifted down to his bloody hands. “And maybe a nap. This wasn't exactly the day I had expected.”

“You need anything?” It was spoken in such a soft tone, almost as if Daryl doubted that he could do something for him. As if he hadn't already done more than enough. 

“No, I'm good.” Jesus was at the bottom of the steps before he turned back. “Well…”

“Should've know,” Daryl teased. 

Jesus smiled brightly. Daryl’s teasing tone was another sign that he was making a true effort to open up and relax in Jesus’ presence. “Can you meet me at the back door of the house, around midnight?”

The Daryl that Jesus had first met would have questioned why. He would have suspicion in his eyes and probably would've brought back up if he did show up. But this Daryl, the Daryl that was slowly learning to trust Jesus, simply nodded. Jesus smiled and threw a kiss. He thought about the flush of red of Daryl’s cheeks right until he passed out.


	10. Balcony

Daryl filled his day with random things. He helped Maggie carve names into Glenn and Abraham’s crosses. Enid asked him how to sharpen her knife and he spent awhile in silence with the girl. He could see why Carl liked her, she was strong and smart. She reminded him of Carol and his thoughts drifted to her. He'd received a letter from Morgan but he'd yet to bring himself to read it. He knew that she was grieving something, something that had started long before, and that she needed her space. He planned to go read it, but Dr. Carson caught him on the way. He needed help moving things around and asked if Daryl would mind helping. It was hard work but Daryl enjoyed being able to help. He was starting to feel useless all cooped up with nothing to do. The doctor was silent as they worked and it left Daryl with his own thoughts. He'd never seen Jesus get that worked up before. The man always seemed to radiate peace and calmness. He wondered how much of that was an act, put on to make the people around him feel at ease. 

Daryl finished with the doctor just as the sun was setting in the sky. He headed over to his trailer and found his vest draped over the railing. Sasha had taken one look at it, practically tore it off of him, and disappeared. It seemed she had washed it and Daryl wondered why she'd bothered. He guessed it gave her something to do but he was grateful all the same. It smelled clean, like leather and the faint hint of soap. He tossed it on his bed, stripped down, and hopped in the shower. As he washed, he remembered the day Carol had threatened to hose him off if he didn't wash. Used to be, there were more important things to do with his time and with water. Now, he had the time and a person he wanted to be clean for. 

He stepped out of the shower and into his room. Aaron and Eric had brought him some clothes and he grabbed a pair of his least ripped jeans. He found a long sleeve blue shirt and slipped that on followed by his vest. He tied his boots and headed to the kitchen of his trailer. He grabbed a power bar and some water and sat down at the table with Carol’s letter in front of him. 

-x-

Daryl left his trailer hours later and headed towards the house. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Carol had explained her choice to stay in the Kingdom and expressed her desire to see him when things cooled down. The last words of her letter ran through his head on his walk over. We ain't ashes yet. He'd told her that, before Beth had been shot. He'd meant it then, when he still had the hope that he would find and save Beth. When Glenn died, he'd finally understood what she’d been staying. He felt consumed by the grief and the guilt and the pain. He'd wanted it to end, so badly that he didn't flinch when Negan swung that bat at him. He'd been ready. But when Dwight dragged him back to the cell, he saw her. It hadn't been Beth, some young blonde Savior, but his exhaustion and pain had made him see her. He saw her eyes and her smile and the way she'd raised her finger in the air while flames danced before her. And he'd remembered her words. He couldn't kneel, he couldn't become one of Negan’s thugs because that was who he'd been. And she'd told him, he could still hear her voice; “You have to stay who are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away. Or it kills you.” When he lost her, when her words about him missing her came so true that it hurt to breath, he made himself a promise that he would live for her. So when he'd told Dwight he couldn't kneel because of someone, he saw her face. “Whoa, deep thoughts huh?” Daryl snapped his eyes up and came face to face with Jesus. “I've been trying to get your attention for a minute.”

“Sorry,” he ducked his head. He wasn't ready to talk about Beth. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell the other man, it was that he wanted to and that scared him. “Been waitin’ long?”

“Nope. I was actually running late but you didn't notice so guess it doesn't count.” He smiled and reached out his hand. 

Daryl took it without hesitation. It still felt silly, two grown men holding hands like teenagers, but he was getting used to it. Jesus pulled him into the house and they started up the stairs. Jesus lived on the third floor, one of the the rooms with the windows that faced the back. Instead they stopped at the second floor. “Where we goin’?”

Jesus shot him a wink over his shoulder but didn't answer. They headed down the hall until they reached two double doors and Jesus pushed one open. They stepped into the large room and Daryl wondered where the occupants were. Aside for the king size bed, there were several empty sleeping bags lining the floor. The door shut behind them and Daryl tried to ignore the feeling that he was trapped. Jesus didn't stop in the room, instead he headed to the frosted glass door in front of them. He opened that one and they stepped out. It was a balcony, the second floor balcony in the front of the house. This late at night, the only other people around would be the guards on the towers. “Sit.” Daryl looked to where Jesus was pointing. There was a blanket on the floor and Daryl looked back up. Jesus waited for him to comply and gave him a soft smile when he lowered himself to the ground. He sat with his back against the wall and his feet stretched out. With the fencing around the balcony, he could no longer see the community. Jesus sat down beside him but he turned so that his back was to Daryl. Daryl opened his mouth to ask, but Jesus shift back and then laid back. His head came to rest on Daryl’s thigh. His hair spread out over Daryl’s lap and he looked up at him. “Good?”

Daryl nodded and Jesus settled against him. He lifted Daryl's hand and placed it on his head. Daryl went still, trying to process. He remembered Jesus’ story about his friend and understood. Slowly, Daryl began to run his fingers through the other man’s hair. It was incredibly soft and under the moonlight, it seemed to almost glow. “Yer like a cat,” Daryl said when Jesus butted his head against Daryl’s hand. 

“Meow,” Jesus whispered and Daryl chuckled softly. He was rewarded with another one of those bright smiles. “Feels nice.”

Daryl scratched his nails along the other man’s scalp, which caused him to shiver. Daryl'd alway been fond of animals and Jesus had really had turned into a cat under Daryl's hands. “Good,” was the only thing he could think to say. 

They stayed like that for a while before Jesus spoke again. “You can talk to me, you know that right?”

“I know,” Daryl whispered. He did know. He trusted Jesus more each day and he knew enough by now that the other man wouldn't judge him. There were so many things that he could say, but all of them felt like lead in his heart. He didn’t want to ruin the night by bringing things down, so he thought of one story that wasn’t sad. “I saw a Chupacabra once.” 

It was a stupid thing to say and he almost took it back. But Jesus just shifted slightly to a more comfortable place on his leg and whispered, “tell me.”

So Daryl did. He spoke in a hushed whisper and told the story of seeing the Chupacabra while hunting. Jesus listened, occasionally shifting his head on Daryl’s thigh to keep his leg from falling asleep. He reached the end of the story and Jesus was still looking up at him with wide eyes. “Merle was wrong, ain’t have nothing to do with them mushrooms I ate. It was real, I know it.”

Jesus chuckled softly and Daryl felt the vibrations all the way up his leg. “I believe you,” he said. “I mean, dead people walk around now. How much other shit exists that we don’t know about it?” Daryl smiled, he’d said the same thing to that kid who’d questioned him at the farm. Jesus moved, sitting up and turning to face Daryl. “You wanna switch?”

Daryl scoffed, “I ain’t the cat.”

Jesus laughed and nudged his shoulder. “More like a one of them mean hound dogs. All bark and no bite unless it’s someone they care for.” Jesus bit his bottom lip and a nervous expression came across his face. “You don’t have to, but it feels nice. I’ll even tell you a story.”

Daryl thought about it. He blocked out the voice that sounded like Merle calling him Darylina. Any show of affection or kindness and Merle called him names, as if being kind could only be for girls. He couldn’t exactly blame his brother, he’d grown up in the same kind of shit Daryl had. Daryl always wondered, if the world hadn’t gone to shit and Merle hadn’t got locked on that roof, would that be who Daryl would have become? Someone afraid to show emotions, afraid to accept comfort...someone afraid to be with another person. He knew that Beth would have wanted him to block that voice out and give this a try. He smiled, Beth was a much better guiding force than his brother and he followed her voice. “Ok,” he grunted out as he scooted over on the blanket. 

Jesus took his spot, his back against the wall and his legs spread out in front of him. Daryl sucked in a breath, turned his back, and laid back. His head rested on Jesus’ thigh and was surprisingly more comfortable than he’d imagined. Jesus’ hand went to his head and he ran his fingers through. It felt nice and soon Jesus was softly combing his fingers through Daryl’s hair. It was nice and Daryl shifted so that he could relax into the touch. “What kind of story do you want?” 

Daryl bit his bottom lip and considered the question. There was a lot of things that he didn’t know about Jesus. “You pick,” he finally said after a million ideas that each sounded stupider ran through his head. 

“Ok. I’ll tell you about the first time I fell in love. I was fifteen and everyone in school was starting to pair off. I had a few friends and they all had started dating. A few of them keep pointing girls out to me, but I didn’t know what to say. I’d done karate my whole life and I wasn’t what people would consider gay. Some of my friends made fun of the guys who sung in choir or acted in the school plays without even knowing if they really were gay. I didn’t want people to know and then suddenly hate me for it. So I’d brush them off and pretend I wasn’t interested in anyone. But I had a crush. Jake, the quarterback for the football team was three years older than me and he was gorgeous. He had blonde hair and blue eyes and he was built like a greek god. It was every gay boy’s fantasy man and I couldn’t stop staring at him. I knew it was impossible, aside from the fact that I wasn’t out, there was no way that a guy like him would even look my way.

One day, a couple of the football team members started inviting people to a party. They were walking down the hall, telling people that they should come, and it was like the most important thing in the world to be invited. So when they invited me and my friends, we were so excited. We thought that’d we finally made it. I was even more excited because I knew Jake would be there. I don’t know why it mattered, I was way too chicken to even say anything to him. I just hung around the edge of the dance floor, watching people and sipping lukewarm beer. I was ready to give the party up as a bad idea when one of Jake’s friends came up to me. He said that Jake was asking for me in the backyard. I should have known something was wrong, this guy had never spoken to me a day in my life. But I thought I was in love and I didn’t care.”

Daryl listened intently. He felt a pang of jealousy when Jesus mentioned this guy who was probably long dead and internally scoffed. Just because they were different, didn’t mean that Jesus liked him any less. As the story continued, Daryl got a sinking feeling in his gut about where this story was going. 

“So, I followed him into the backyard and there were like six guys from the football team and Jake. He said he’d been watching me look at him and he was disgusted. Thought I needed to be taught a lesson. I took three of them out, one with a broken leg that ruined his football career, but it was too many for me to fight by myself. They didn’t stop until some people for the party saw. I spent a few days in the hospital and my mother, she wanted me to press charges.”

“Should of killed ‘em,” Daryl growled. 

“Wouldn’t have helped anything,” Jesus responded. “They were ignorant and afraid. But my mother, she pulled me out and put me in a more progressive school. She told me that she loved me and supported me. And I learned there was more to life than just a pretty face.”

“Sad story,” Daryl said. 

Jesus chuckled and scratched his nails along Daryl’s scalp. It caused a shiver to run through Daryl’s body and warmth to pool in his stomach. “Well, I haven’t seen any Chupacabras.”

Daryl looked up into Jesus’ eyes. It was a little odd, watching him from this angle. “Still time,” he said. 

“I suppose we can go searching when the war’s over,” Jesus smiled. “Do you ever want to run away?”

“Sometimes,” Daryl admitted. “Ain’t gonna leave ‘em behind though. Carl and Lil’ Asskicker, they need a home. I’ll fight to give it to ‘em.”

Jesus gnawed his bottom lip, “Don’t you fight to give yourself a home too?”

“Ain’t never had a home,” Daryl chewed on the skin around his thumbnail. “Abraham asked me, when we first got here, if I ever thought about settlin’.”

“What’d you say?”

“Asked if he thought shit was settled,” Daryl’s words were muffled by his thumb. “Ain’t never really felt settled. Guess he figured it out; went home, dumped his girl and moved in with Sasha.”

Daryl let himself think about what Jesus had asked. When they found Alexandria, he’d been willing to work with it so that Carl and Judith could have a home. So that Maggie and Glenn could settle down. So that Rick could be at peace and Carol could stop fighting. He hadn’t thought about himself at all. He figured he’d live on the fringe, fight when there was fighting needed. “If we win, do you think it’d be settled then?”

Jesus voice broke through his thoughts and he looked back up. His eyes were sad and a frown had settled on his face. It looked wrong on the other man. “Ain’t sure,” he replied. Beth’s voice sounded in his mind, telling him to listen to what he felt and say it. “Ain’t waitin’ for it neither.” 

Daryl felt Jesus’ hand stop in his hair. He looked up to see the other man staring down at him. He couldn’t read his expression and he worried he’d said something wrong. Instead, Jesus leaned down and pressed his lips to Daryl’s. It was another quick kiss and Daryl could feel the heat in his cheeks when Jesus pulled away. He could see that Jesus was also flushed red. Daryl smiled, a real smile that he was sure only one other person had even seen, and closed his eyes. Jesus’ hand resumed its motion and Daryl relaxed even further.

-x-

Light blossomed behind Daryl’s eyes and he blinked to adjust. The sun shone down on his face, warming the air around him. For a moment, he wondered why he was outside. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a stomach. He shifted his gaze and saw Jesus, his head slumped on his shoulders and his back still against the wall. They must have fallen asleep and Daryl had shifted on his side at some point during the night. He moved carefully, but the movement jostled Jesus awake. He blinked rapidly before his eyes settled on Daryl. “Um...oops.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, “You fell asleep.”

“Technically, you fell asleep first. But you seemed like you needed it and I was planning on waking you up. But then I think I fell asleep, badly I might add.” He brought his arm up and massaged the back of his neck. 

Daryl felt bad about that because despite using another person as a pillow, he’d slept like a dream. Better than he had in weeks actually. “Turn around,” he said. Jesus didn’t argue and Daryl shifted so that he could work his hands into the flesh of Jesus’ neck. He’d done this once before, with Carol, and the other woman had teased him mercilessly. Jesus didn’t say a thing and he didn’t know which he prefered. It still felt awkward, to touch another person so intimately, but he didn’t pull away like he had with Carol. He filed that away to tell her as proof that he’d been listening and learning. He dragged his fingers over the tense muscle of Jesus’ neck and watched as Jesus kept almost inhumanely still, like he was scared to spook him. “Better?”

“If I say no, will you keep going?” Jesus looked over his shoulder and gave Daryl a salacious wink. Daryl scoffed and knocked his shoulder lightly. He should have known that Jesus couldn’t resist teasing him a little. 

“Get up prick,” he teased back and pushed himself off the balcony. They were lucky to rise early, only a handful of people were wondering around below them. Daryl thought back to the room and turned to Jesus. “Where’d all the people go? Ones that stay in that room?”

Jesus stretched his arms over his head before looking over at Daryl. “Most of them are out on a run, the ones who were left didn’t bother to ask why I wanted to balcony. Just traded a few things and they bunked somewhere else. Probably should get going though, they might be back soon.” Daryl nodded and headed towards the door. Jesus stopped him with a hand over his on the doorknob. “I had a good time.”

Daryl looked over at him through the curtain of his dark hair. Jesus’ hair was fluffy, probably from Daryl’s hands, and his eyes bright. There were things that Daryl worried about, things about this that he was unsure and even scared of. But the way Jesus looked in that moment caused his heart to clench and the warmth to pool in his belly again. There’d only been a few truly beautiful things that Daryl had seen in his life and he had to admit to himself that Jesus standing in front of him right then was one of them. “Me too,” he whispered. And with all the strength and courage he could muster, he leaned forward and pressed his own lips to Jesus’. The other man was too shocked to respond and his eyes were wider than they’d ever been when Daryl pulled away. “See you later Rovia.” He pushed open the door and disappeared before Jesus had even moved.


	11. Fate

Jesus stared at the ceiling. It’d been almost a week since that night on the balcony and just as long since he'd seen Daryl. Michonne had shown up later that morning and requested Jesus’ help with a run. They had pretty good luck and only minimal walker issue. They had split the haul up outside the gates since it was mid afternoon and Michonne was eager to get home. He'd entered with his stuff and found Daryl working with Dr. Carson again. Jesus resisted the urge to run over to him. Daryl was a private person and even if people at Hilltop knew that they were friends, he didn't think Daryl was ready for them to find out more. He'd waved, which Daryl returned and it managed to make his knees weak. He'd blame that on the sleeveless shirt with the vest and the shine of sweat glistening on his biceps. 

Jesus had hightailed into the house before he made a fool of himself or did something truly embarrassing. So he went to his room, flopped on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. It was insane how much Daryl turned him on. When they'd first met, he could appreciate the rough and tumble look of the older man. The fringe of dark hair over his eyes, the greying scruff on his face, the sleeveless shirt and the well defined arms all led to some pretty interesting fantasies of the man. But with all that had happened afterward, he hadn't been able to really think much about it. When Maggie came to the Hilltop and told him that Daryl had been captured, he'd been upset. He'd known that Daryl was a good man and didn't deserve whatever Negan was going to do to him. If Sasha hadn't asked, he might not have gone to the Sanctuary. But once he'd been there and saw the defeated man they'd turned Daryl into, he had to do something. The feelings for him developed from something different than he'd ever experienced. He hadn't known Daryl well, just a basic understanding of the man. But he'd been drawn to him and the more he watched, the more he learned. He'd begun to admire his inner strength, his love for his family, and the depth for which he cared. Jesus knew men who could have chalked Glenn and Abraham up as casualties and moved on. But Daryl grieved them and owned up to his part in their deaths. It could have broken him but he channeled the pain into fighting back, to protecting Maggie and Sasha. He was a genuinely good man and Jesus felt like he'd been hit with a brick when he realized it. He was attracted to the man on more levels and with more intensity that he'd ever felt in his life. He wanted to spend time with him, get to know him, be with him. When Jesus realized that things would be different and that Daryl had never been with another person, it hadn't changed a thing. Jesus knew that even if they never worked up to sex, being with Daryl would be enough for him. The intensity of his feelings scared him and he wondered if everything was too fast, but he remembered Maggie telling him about Glenn and how she'd just known. And that moment that Daryl had kissed him, he'd known what she meant. He could live another day or another fifty years, and it wouldn't change how he felt about Daryl. 

A soft knock broke him out of his thoughts. “Come in,” he said without moving, expecting Maggie. 

“Bein’ lazy?” A gruff voice caused his head to snap and Jesus locked eyes with Daryl as he closed the door behind him. 

Up close he looked even more tantalizing. His hair was wet and he'd pushed it back to keep it out of his eyes. His arms glistened with a layer of sweat that Jesus wanted to lick off with his tongue. He had to turn his head before his thoughts drifted and his body started to react. “I guess I am. You been working hard?”

“Mhm,” Daryl responded. It was quiet for a minute and Jesus turned his head so that he could look at him. He was chewing on his thumb and his eyes shifted from the floor to Jesus. “You want dinner tonight?”

Jesus sat up and turned so he could set his feet on the floor and face Daryl. “Like a date?”

“Ain't that what we doin’?” Daryl ducked his head so that his hair fell in front of his eyes. 

Jesus smirked to himself and stood up. He walked over and stopped in front of him. “Well, if you want us to be.”

Daryl looked up and there was a flicker of something in his eyes that Jesus couldn't place. “Want you to be mine.”

Jesus felt the breath leave his body. Between the kiss and this confession, his head was spinning. He reached out and took his hand. “I am,” he whispered. 

Daryl sucked in a breath and he squeezed Jesus’ hand. Jesus shifted up and pressed a kiss to Daryl’s lips. He broke the kiss but Daryl followed and kissed him again. Jesus reached up, sliding his hand around to the back of Daryl’s neck. He moved his lips against Daryl’s. The other man mimicked his motions and Jesus took a chance. He caught Daryl's bottom lip and nipped at it with his teeth before sucking it softly. Daryl’s breath hitched and his other hand came to rest on Jesus’ hip. Jesus wanted to deepen the kiss, press himself against the other man and just...feel, but he pulled away breathlessly. Daryl was shaking and Jesus moved the hand behind his neck to cup his cheek. 

Jesus stroked a thumb over his cheek. “Are you mine?” Daryl nodded and Jesus felt like he could fly. “It's gonna be hard to get rid of me now,” Jesus teased. “I believe you said something about dinner. What time?”

“8,” Daryl replied. “That good?”

“Very,” Jesus answered. “Now you should go, I can't be trusted with you looking like that and a bed nearby.”

“Stop,” Daryl almost whined and his face flushed red. 

Jesus could help it, he reached up and pressed another soft kiss to the other man’s lips. “Ok, you go on now. I've got a date to get ready for,” he winked and let go of Daryl's hand. The other man smiled softly at him and headed out the door. Jesus fell back on his bed with a sigh. This man was going to be the death of him. 

-x-

Jesus practically bounced down the stairs later that night, a bundle of nerves and excitement. Since he’d been the one asking and planning all their time together, he was looking forward to seeing what Daryl had planned. He headed out the door of Barrington House and across the lawn. Daryl’s trailer was near the medical trailer at the end and Jesus reached it in no time. He smoothed his shirt, took a deep breath, and knocked. Daryl opened the door and Jesus stepped in. Candlelight bathed the room, giving a soft glow of light that Jesus’ eyes had to adjust to see in. Daryl had closed and locked the door and Jesus turned to look. The other man’s eyes were darting around and he was chewing on his thumb. Jesus knew it was a nervous tick, one he found enduring. Daryl had showered, his hair curling out slightly on the ends, and he was wearing a soft gray shirt and a pair of jeans. His boots were sitting near the door and Jesus found the sight of his sock-clad feet adorable. “Hi,” he whispered.

Daryl shifted his weight and looked up through his hair, “Hi.”

“This is amazing,” Jesus said. “How’d you do it?”

“Maggie helped,” he admitted and Jesus smiled. If Maggie had helped him set this up, that meant he’d told her about them. “Told her it was too much.”

Jesus shook his head and reached over to take Daryl’s hand out away from his mouth and link their fingers. “It’s perfect,” he said breathlessly. “You look...soft.” He trailed the fingers over the long sleeve of the shirt and felt the soft material. 

Daryl scoffed, “Maggie threatened my balls if I didn’t wear somethin’ with sleeves.”

“Well, she’s a buzzkill. I like your arms,” Jesus winked and squeezed Daryl’s bicep as if to prove a point. Daryl blushed and ducked his head. “You look amazing though.”

Daryl let out another noise of disagreement. Jesus toed his shoes off, setting them beside Daryl’s and stepped forward. He moved slowly but eventually wrapped his arms around Daryl’s neck. The other man froze and it was several minutes before he wrapped his own arms around Jesus’ back. Neither one broke the hug, content to stand there and just feel. Jesus could feel the fast pace of Daryl’s heart against his cheek and the slight shaking of his body. Reluctantly, he pulled away. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Jesus responded. “Something smells good too.”

Daryl lead him over to the small kitchen. A large pot was on the stove and the smell was making Jesus’ mouth water. He hadn’t eaten a lot while on the road and whatever Daryl was making smelled better than anything he’d eaten in months. “Rabbit stew,” Daryl said as he ladled some in a bowl. 

Jesus took the offered bowl and headed over to the couch. Daryl followed with his own bowl and sat on the other end. Jesus lifted the spoon and took a small bite. The food was warm and tasted like heaven. “Shit, this is really good.”

“Yer surprised,” Daryl said through a mouthful of his own food. 

“You don’t seem like the cooking type,” Jesus said. “How’d you learn?”

“Ain’t hard,” Daryl replied. “Throw some shit in a pot and let it cook. Taught them two idiots that guard the walls how to set traps and they gave me a few rabbits. Dr. Carson got me the rest.”

Jesus nodded and fully tucked into his food. He blushed when he looked up to see Daryl watching. “Sorry,” he wiped his mouth on the piece of cloth Daryl’d given him as a napkin. “It’s really good,” Jesus said and Daryl’s cheeks flushed red.

“You want more?” Jesus nodded and Daryl gave him a smile before taking his bowl. He brought it back full and Jesus tucked back in. He should have felt embarrassed at the way he devoured the food, but he could tell that it actually made Daryl happy. When Jesus finished, Daryl took their bowls to the kitchen. 

Jesus laid his head back against the couch and sighed contently. He felt Daryl resume his seat on the other end of the couch and he cracked an eye to look at him. “I could get used to this.”

Daryl chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t. Rabbit ain’t easy to find when winter hits.”

Jesus pouted and lifted his head back up. Daryl’s eyes had been roaming over him and Daryl blushed when Jesus caught him looking. “I wasn’t talking about just the food,” he whispered. The mood between them shifted and he could see Daryl’s eyes spark. Jesus moved so that he was sitting next to Daryl, their thighs touching. The air between them was thick and warm. He reached out, tracing a thumb down his cheek and over his bottom lip. “I missed you,” he whispered. 

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to Jesus’. The soft light of the room made the powder blue of his eyes darker and Jesus felt like Daryl could see straight through him. It was an intense gaze, full of things that neither of them had voiced but both of them felt. Jesus felt lightheaded. “Me too,” Daryl admitted. 

Jesus leaned forward and kissed him. He couldn’t think or breathe or speak, he just needed to feel. Daryl froze beneath him, still unused to the feeling. Jesus moved his lips softly, waiting, and soon Daryl’s hand lifted to Jesus’ back. Jesus wrapped his arms around Daryl’s neck, leaning his body into the kiss, and running his nails along Daryl’s scalp. Daryl was shaking and Jesus pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against the other man’s. “You’ve got no idea…” Jesus trailed off. He didn’t know if admitting his attraction out loud would scare the other man away. On the one hand, Daryl seemed to constantly doubt himself and Jesus yearned to show him what he felt. On the other hand, this was all new to Daryl and he didn’t want to scare him away. He shifted, pressing his head into Daryl’s neck and wrapping his arms around him again. Daryl smelled like leather, cigarettes, and something Jesus could only describe as outdoors.

Daryl’s hand rested on the middle of Jesus’ back and the shaking seemed to have stopped. “No idea what?”

The tone in his voice, soft but uncertain, made Jesus break the hug and look back up. Daryl’s eyes were downcast, his hair falling over them to hide him. Jesus reached up, tucking the hair behind his ears and catching his eyes. “How you affect me,” Jesus whispered. He leaned forward, kissing him again before Daryl could say something or doubt himself. Daryl didn’t freeze, responding almost instantly to the kiss. Jesus caught his bottom lip, sucking into his mouth and running his tongue along it. The other man gasped, his hands pushing Jesus closer. 

Jesus’ brain stopped working. He needed more, needed to show him how he felt. He deepened the kiss, touching Daryl’s tongue with his own tentatively. Daryl responded by pushing him again, until he was practically sitting in Daryl’s lap. Jesus’ hand found its way back into Daryl’s hair and he guided the other man through the kiss. It took a minute for them to find the right angle and another minute for Daryl to respond. Daryl followed his lead and the kiss grew into something more intense. Daryl’s hands shifted, running up and down Jesus’ back, and Jesus couldn’t stop the moan that blossomed through his body. The lightheaded feeling was starting to come back and Jesus reluctantly pulled away. He took deep shuddering breaths and watched as Daryl did the same. The other man’s eyes were darker than Jesus had ever seen, his lips red and his chin pink from Jesus’ beard. “Does…” he voice was gravelly and Daryl took another minute before he continued. “Is it always like that?”

The shy way he ducked his head was adorable and Jesus wondered if his smile was as dopey as he felt. “No, this is something different.” Jesus trailed his thumb along Daryl’s swollen lower lip. “Special,” he whispered. 

Daryl blushed and reached up, cupping Jesus’ cheek. “Sorry if…”

Jesus hushed him with a finger over his lips. “You are perfect,” he said with all the sincerity that he felt. “You make me feel alive,” he whispered. 

Daryl kissed him and all thoughts flew out of Jesus’ head. The feel of the other man against him, the way he tentatively licked Jesus’ lips like he needed permission, the way he mimicked Jesus’ earlier movements; Jesus felt like he’d explode. He gripped Daryl’s arms, his body arching into the other man. 

Jesus had fantasies about Daryl but they didn't come close to the real thing. Daryl kissed him like he was dying and Jesus could keep him alive. For someone who'd never done it, he'd picked up quite quickly. Jesus lost himself into the kiss, let Daryl drag his nails down his back and control the kiss until they were both breathless. Jesus broke the kiss and peppered kisses along Daryl's lips and chin. “You've got beard burn,” Jesus whispered. 

“Don't care,” Daryl growled. 

Jesus giggled softly and reluctantly pulled back a little. “We should talk.”

“Ye talk too much,” Daryl groaned.

“I know,” Jesus shifted back on the couch so that he was at the other end. Daryl raised his eyebrows at the distance, “I’m afraid I’ll get distracted if I stay too close.” Daryl smirked and gave Jesus the most heated look he’d ever seen on the other man. Like Jesus was prey and Daryl was hunting him. “And stop looking at me like that,” Jesus whined.

“Like what,” Daryl replied. Jesus would almost believe that he didn’t know what he was doing, except for the glint of amusement in the other man’s eyes. 

Jesus chuckled, “I think I’ve created a monster.” 

Daryl turned on the couch, curling one leg under him and leaving the other on the floor. Jesus had chosen to sit cross-legged on the couch facing the other man. “A’ight, talk.”

Jesus took a few calming breaths before he spoke. “I really like what we were doing. But I don’t want to do anything that might make you feel uncomfortable.”

“I seem uncomfortable to you,” Daryl asked?

“Not at all,” Jesus whispered, “but...look I’ve had issues with consent in the past. Guys who got caught in the heat of the moment and didn’t like where things went. I just don’t want us doing anything that we haven’t talked about. I know, talking isn’t exactly sexy.”

“Depends on how you do it,” Daryl growled out. Jesus almost moaned at the way his voice practically raked over his body. 

He’d had plenty of other lovers before things had gone to shit and a few of them had been less experienced than Jesus. He’d expected Daryl to be shy, like he was when they talked about their feelings. Instead, it seemed that Daryl’s confidence grew the more he touched Jesus and Jesus touched back. The look of desire that had been on Daryl’s face had not waned in the slightest and Jesus wanted to fuck everything and crawl back in the other man’s arms. “I want to know if you have a stopping point.”

Daryl gnawed on his bottom lip and Jesus appreciated that the other man was truly thinking about it. “Ain’t sure,” he finally responded. 

“Okay, well you get the general idea of where this would go if we hadn’t stopped?” Daryl nodded. “Are you okay with that?”

Daryl sucked in a breath and Jesus waited. The heated look was gone and replaced with one of deep worry. Jesus tried not to make assumptions on what was causing that look, instead he waited until the other man spoke again. “Got scars,” Daryl whispered so low that Jesus almost didn’t hear. 

It broke his heart, those two little words. Everyone had scars but Jesus knew that they had to be severe for Daryl to feel the need to bring them up. A rush of anger, at whoever had hurt the man in front of him enough to scar, ran through Jesus’ body. He remembered having Dwight against that wall and regretted that he’d moved the knife away. Consequences be damned, he should have killed that bastard, for all the bastards who’d hurt Daryl before that he couldn’t kill. “Daryl, nothing would make me not want this.” He scooted closer so that his knees were resting against Daryl’s legs. He took Daryl’s hands, linking their fingers and squeezing. “If you don’t want more, I’d understand and I promise, I’d be happy just with this. But if you want more, I don’t want you to ever think that something like that would make me run away. I hate them, only because I know that someone caused you pain. But they are a part of you, part of the man that made his way to me.”

Daryl looked up and Jesus could see the tears in his eyes. “You ain’t seen ‘em yet.”

“Do you want to show me?” Jesus could see the look of fear on Daryl’s face as the other man shook his head. “That’s okay, we can work up to it. Where are they?”

“My back,” Daryl whispered. 

Jesus let go of Daryl’s hands and moved off the couch. “Scoot forward,” he whispered. He waited as Daryl fought an internal battle on whether to stay and be this vulnerable, or to run. Jesus felt honored and humbled that Daryl moved up, knowing how hard it was for the other man. Jesus moved to the spot behind Daryl. He rested his back against the arm of the couch and settled his legs on each side of Daryl’s hips. He left a few inches of space between them, but leaned forward and kissed the back of Daryl’s neck. The other man sucked in a breath and Jesus ran his hands down his arms. He was shaking, harder than Jesus had ever felt. He pressed his chest against the other man’s back and wrapped his arms around him. 

Daryl went immediately tense. His breathing was shallow and Jesus could feel his heart racing. Jesus waited, wondering if he’d pushed Daryl too far. It took a while before Jesus could feel Daryl’s body start to relax. “Sorry,” the other man mumbled. 

Jesus pressed a kiss into his hair before breaking the hug. He brought his hands up to Daryl’s shoulders, massaging the flesh there. If there were scars here, Jesus couldn’t feel them through the shirt. “When I was on that run,” Jesus figured that Daryl would be more relaxed if he kept talking, “I missed you. I think Michonne might have caught onto something because she kept giving me these looks, half pity and half warning. Finally, I asked her what was up and she told me I’d been talking in my sleep.” He moved his hands along the back of Daryl’s neck. “She said that I keep whispering your name and she wanted to know what the hell was going on. At first, I thought she was mad. But I realized, she wanted to make sure I wasn’t screwing around with you. Since we hadn’t talked about telling anyone, I couldn’t talk to anyone at Hilltop. So I told her what was happening, or what I had hoped, was happening between us.” Jesus moved his hands down Daryl’s back, causing the other man to tense again. He could feel a slight difference, parts of Daryl’s back that were raised, but he moved over them as if it was all the same. “She told me she’d cut off each limb one at a time and feed them to me if I hurt you.”

Daryl huffed, “Don’t need no protectin’.”

“They love you,” Jesus whispered. “Aaron gave me a similar, albeit less detailed, warning. I guess they seem to think I’m some kind of playboy, just in it for the hook up. I guess I could see why they’d be worried. I’ve never been…” Jesus applied more pressure, his hands kneading the knots of tension away. “I didn’t do serious relationships, you know...before. Any time that things got serious and the other guy started talking commitment, I ran. I couldn’t imagine spending my whole life with another person. I didn’t like being restricted, tied down to one person. I wanted to be free and live and experience the world. I didn’t think that I could ever find a person that I’d want to do that with.” Jesus pressed another kiss to the back of Daryl’s neck. “Then I met you.”

Daryl took a slow breath, almost as if he breathed he’d wake up from a dream. Jesus pressed another kiss to the back of his neck, just to prove he was still there. “You didn’t know me,” Daryl whispered. 

“That’s true,” Jesus agreed. “I think that was what scared me the most. I was attracted to you from the beginning, again...those arms of yours do crazy things to me. When I brought you back, I didn’t think any of this would happen. I figured you would heal and then you’d go back to Alexandria. It wasn’t until Rick showed up that I realized the idea of that made something twist in my gut.” Jesus pulled away a bit so that Daryl wouldn’t feel how his hands were shaking. “I was with someone, right after I got here. His name is Alex and he is Dr. Carson’s nurse. He was sweet and I was lonely. It was easy, falling into bed with him. I could forget about what had happened, what I’d lost...what I’d done out there. Then the Saviors showed up and demanded that we go out and scavenge. Gregory offered me a room in the house in exchange for leading most of the runs, especially since I had skill in fighting and had been out there. Alex didn’t want me to go and I could see this look in his eyes, one I’d seen before in other men. He wanted me to settle with him and I couldn’t do it. So, I took Gregory’s offer and I left. We are on friendly terms now but I don’t think he’s ever truly forgiven me for breaking his heart.” Jesus took a deep breath, gathered all the courage he had, and took a chance. “If you asked me not to go out, I’d stay.”

Daryl shifted enough to look at him. Jesus wondered if he could see all the things he was feeling, if he knew that Jesus was nervous and scared. “I wouldn’t ask,” he said, “I’d go with.”

Jesus let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I know,” he whispered. And he did know, that Daryl wasn’t the kind of person who’d ever hold someone back from doing something. He’d help, but he wouldn’t stop them from doing something they needed to do. “I think this is crazy,” he admitted, “and terrifying. I would sit in my room and tell myself that I was being stupid. You couldn’t just meet someone and start falling for them. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it. This feeling that I needed to be with you. So when Michonne was asking, I told her that. She said that sometimes, the universe works in ways we can’t possibly understand. Like a little boy in a Sheriff's hat helping her open her heart again, giving her hope in a future and a family. So I should remind myself that even if the world’s gone to shit, the universe hasn’t given up on us and we shouldn’t give up on the universe. She told me that if there was ever a person who deserved happiness, it was you.” Daryl’s eyes had tears in them. Jesus reached forward, cupping his cheek. “I want you to be happy.”

Jesus watched as Daryl gnawed his bottom lip and fidgeted. He waited, knowing that Daryl wanted to open up but had to fight a long standing habit of keeping things tightly bottled up. “When the prison fell, I escaped with Maggie’s sister. Beth.” Daryl took a shuddering breath and the tears in his eyes fell. “We was...different, but she got me. She was stronger than she looked and wiser than someone her age should’ve been. When she died, I didn’t think I’d ever be happy. Figured, that’s my punishment for lettin’ her die. I hear her sometimes, tellin’ me to quit bein’ sad. Tellin’ me I gotta live because she believed in me. It’s what kept me alive in that place. Sometimes, I think she brought me here. Brought me to you.” Jesus felt the tears falling down his cheek. “I’m happy, here, with you.”

Jesus crashed into him, their lips connecting in what could only be described as desperation. He clung to Daryl’s arms, pressed against him, and kissed the other man until he couldn’t breath and his heart felt like it would explode. When he broke the kiss, his head fell to Daryl’s shoulder and Daryl wrapped his arms around him. He stayed there for awhile, feeling the other man wrapped around him, before breaking the contact to look up at him. “Can I stay? Just...we can sleep?”

Daryl nodded. Jesus stood up slowly and held out his hand. Daryl took it and let him lead them to Daryl’s room. Jesus felt nervous, as he let go of Daryl’s hand. He laid down on the bed, reaching back out and guiding Daryl to lie beside him. Daryl was on his back, so Jesus pressed against his side. He rested his head on Daryl’s shoulder while the other man wrapped his arm around him. He was warm, the shirt he was wearing was soft and smelled like him, and the emotions of the past day finally got to him. He listened to Daryl’s heartbeat and as the other man’s breathing begin to slow, he too fell asleep.


	12. Trust

A knocking sound woke Daryl up. His eyes blinked to adjust and he felt groggy. He didn’t usually sleep this hard or this well and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. He shifted, noticing a weight on his chest. For a moment he was confused, but he looked down and the memory of the night replayed in his head. Jesus was breathing softly, his hair curtained over Daryl’s arm and his leg flung over Daryl’s. The knocking sounded again and Daryl looked to see that Jesus was so out of it that he didn’t hear. Carefully moving him over, Daryl slid off the bed and headed towards the door. He opened it to find Maggie standing there. “Daryl Dixon, I’m pregnant and I’ve been knocking…” 

Daryl held up his finger to shush her and stepped out of the door. He closed it behind him and turned to face her. “Yer loud as hell woman.”

“Why should that…” Something sparked in her eyes and Daryl groaned. “Jesus is still in there,” she asked in a whisper? Daryl nodded and Maggie punched his shoulder playfully, “You dog.”

“Ain’t what you thinkin’,” Daryl said, “just fell asleep.”

“Mhm, sure.” Maggie grinned and leaned against the railing of the porch. “So, I take it things went well.” Daryl nodded and Maggie looked up at him. She caught his eye and gave him a bright smile. “I’m happy for you Daryl.”

Daryl flushed and ducked his head, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Daryl didn’t say anything, just flashed his eyes up at her. “Oh Daryl, you deserve to be happy. They would have wanted you to be happy, you know that. I want you to be happy.” Maggie placed her hand over her stomach, “I miss him. If he was here, he’d be teasing the shit out of you.”

Daryl smiled, “And tellin’ everyone, never could keep a secret.”

“So, you gonna tell me all the details?” Daryl glared and she threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine, be that way. I came to tell you that Dr. Carson wanted me to see if you could help him out again.”

“Yea, I’ll be around in a few.” Maggie winked, to which Daryl didn’t respond, and headed down the steps. 

Daryl turned back to his door and opened it quietly. The candles had long burnt out and he was glad he thought to turn the stove off before. He headed back into his bedroom to find Jesus still asleep. He’d curled into the warm space that Daryl had left behind and pressed his face into the pillow. He looked peaceful and Daryl wondered for a moment if he should just let the other man sleep. He shook his head at that thought, he didn’t want Jesus to wake up and not find him there. He stepped over to the bed, sat on the edge, and softly tapped his shoulder. “Paul.”

Jesus whined and pressed his head further in the pillow. Daryl smiled and shook him softly. The other man tilted his head and cracked his eyes opened. “Hi,” he whispered in a voice rough with sleep. 

Daryl’s heart skipped at the sight of those blue eyes looking up at him, still heavy with sleep, and the soft smile on his face. “Hey. Doc asked for my help, I gotta head out.” Jesus nodded and shifted like he was going to get up. “Stay,” Daryl whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Jesus gave him a sleepy smile, “mm...kay.” Daryl watched him curl back up and close his eyes. He liked the idea of Jesus in his bed and wished he could curl back up with him. Reluctantly he headed back out of the room. 

-x-

Daryl checked the medical trailer first but it had been empty. Figuring Dr. Carson was in the infirmary, he headed up to the house. In the week that Jesus had been gone, Daryl had been around the Hilltop a lot more helping Doctor Carson. At first, people stared at him like he was a sideshow freak and some even ran in the opposite direction. Now, most people seemed used to his presence. Daryl could always tell the ones who were apprehensive about the impending war because they seemed to glare at him as if it was his fault. Sometimes, he felt like it might be. 

He headed into the house and towards the makeshift infirmary. It was actually three rooms; the small dining room, the formal dining room, and the parlor room. The small dining room had been turned into a surgery room, completely sterilized. The large dining room had been sectioned off with sheets and four cots. They were currently working on turning the parlor room into a sort of diagnostic room for less serious illnesses and injuries. Dr. Carson was currently there, attempting to move a large desk. Daryl headed over and grabbed the other end of the desk. “Ye couldn't wait a minute?”

The doctor gave Daryl a smile, “I had it.”

“Mhm,” Daryl rolled his eyes. The doctor was a good guy and they got along surprising well. He'd been apprehensive when the man had first asked for his help but Daryl had come to appreciate having something to do. 

They shifted the desk into the hallway and headed back into the room. “I have a question for you.” Daryl looked up at the doctor. “I know Jesus has a hiding place for you when the Saviors come. Is there enough room to stash something?”

“What do you need to stash?”

“The group that came back this morning found some important medicine. Medicine that we are going to need soon.”

Daryl understood. If they didn't the hide the medicine, they'd have to share half of it with the Saviors. “I can stash it. Bring it to my trailer and I'll take care of it.”

Doctor Carson smiled. The two of them worked in silence, moving the furniture from the room to the hall. Footsteps approached after a few minutes and a man came around the corner. “Hey Doc. You seen…” the other man stopped when he saw Daryl. “Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“That's okay, we are just moving things around. Alex this is Daryl, Daryl this is Alex.”

Daryl felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He doubted seriously that there would be another Alex at the Hilltop, so this had to be Jesus’ ex. The man was tall, inches taller than Daryl. He had broad shoulders and light brown hair cut close to his head. “Are you the guy they are looking for?”

Daryl took a step back and shifted into a defensive stance. “What's it to ye?”

Alex held his hands up, “Whoa...didn't mean anything by it. I wouldn't turn you in or anything. They stopped us on the road looking for you.” He turned his attention over to the doctor. “You said Jesus got back yesterday, his bed hasn't been slept in.”

“Could be on watch,” Doctor Carson said. “Or snuck out again.”

“Whatcha need him for?” Daryl couldn't help the question coming out of his mouth and ignored the look Doctor Carson sent him. 

Alex stared at Daryl for a minute like he was studying him and Daryl met the man’s gaze, refusing to back down. “Found him something he'd like, I'll give it to him later. Nice to meet you Daryl.”

Daryl watched the other man walk out the door. This feeling begin to settle in the gut and he began to feel antsy and trapped. “Bring them meds by later Doc,” Daryl said and he slipped out of the room. He headed out to his trailer, his mind whirling. Jesus had never specified if Alex was still alive, but Daryl had assumed he wasn't. If he had been, Daryl figured Jesus would’ve told him that Alex still lived at Hilltop. To see the other man, to know that he still existed and still brought things back for Jesus, made the feeling in his stomach grow. It felt like a living animal, burrowing and growling under his skin. 

Daryl could admit that there was a certain attractiveness to Alex, like those men he'd see in magazines at gas stations. Compared to him, Daryl felt like a mutt someone brought in from the rain. Each step toward the trailer brought his brother’s voice to the front of his mind. _“Ain't no one ever gonna love you Darylina, specially not some pretty boy like that. Bet ye thought ye was home free, world endin’ mean slim pickins. Pretty boy settlin’ for some piece o’ shit redneck like you. He gonna leave soon as someone else looks his way.”_

“Shut up,” he hissed under his breath. The steps to his trailer loomed in front of him and he wondered if Jesus was still there. The animal in his gut growled at the idea, felt like it would burst out of him if he saw the other man. He took a deep breath to gather his courage and pushed open the door. 

Jesus was sitting on the couch, hair pulled into a knot on the top of his head and a book in his lap. He was wearing a pair of Daryl’s sweats and a white tank, his feet tucked up under him. He looked up when the door opened and smiled at Daryl. He looked at home and Daryl felt like that sight should have made him happy. Instead, the animal in his gut roared and Merle’s voice echoed in his head. “Hey.” Daryl closed the door behind him and toed off his boots next to Jesus’. “Hope you don't mind that I stayed. No one know I'm here so it’s quiet.”

“Alex lookin’ for ye,” Daryl spit out. Jesus’ eyebrows shot up and he shifted on the couch, his feet hitting the ground and his book falling to the side. “Ain't bother to tell me he still alive?”

“I didn't think it would matter,” Jesus said and Daryl growled in response. “Ok, so I did think it would matter. But I knew he was out on a long run with a group and I figured I'd have more time before he got back. Are you mad?”

Daryl huffed, “I don't give a fuck. Keep your secrets.” He walked out of the room and into his bedroom. Fuck this, he'd rather take his chances with Negan than deal with this. His heart ached at the idea but he wasn't sticking around to be made a fool of. His brother was right, he'd been an idiot to think this kind of thing was for him.

He started throwing what little clothes he had in a bag. Jesus entered the room and Daryl should have known that he would have followed him. “Daryl, Daryl stop.” Jesus reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Daryl jerked back and away from Jesus. “Daryl, talk to me.”

“Ain't got nothin’ to say,” he growled. 

“Well I do,” Jesus said. “Daryl, I didn't think he'd show up so soon. It was hard for me to tell you about him and I swear, I was planning on telling you that he'd be back soon. But Daryl, he doesn't mean anything to me. You have to know that.”

“Don't know shit,” Daryl yelled. “Alls I know is that somabitch shows up rooting round your room and…” Daryl’s anger melted out of him. He couldn't fight to make himself more attractive or more experienced. He couldn't change that even though Jesus has said things hadn't worked out, it seemed that Alex wasn't giving up. He couldn't fool himself into thinking that he deserved something like this.

Jesus took another step forward, “Daryl. I don't want Alex. I'm not settling for you because he was gone and I'm not going to change my mind now that he's back. The only person I want is you.” Daryl huffed in disbelief. Jesus stepped forward again so that he was within touching distance. He reached up and tucked Daryl's hair behind his ear. “Please, tell me what you are thinking or feeling.”

Daryl didn't want to and he wasn't sure that he could put into words all the things going on in his head. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He knew that Aaron would want him to try, that Beth and Carol and Maggie would. “Ye could do better,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Oh Daryl,” Jesus whispered. He stepped forward until he was almost pressed up against him. He cupped his cheek and tilted his head up so that they their eyes met. “I've said it before, I'd kill every bastard that ever made you feel like you aren't good enough or worthy enough to be happy. You could line every man left alive up and I would still choose you. You are kind and generous, you are smart and you think fast on your feet. You drive me crazy with how sexy your are and how you don’t even realize it. I want to make you happy. I want you Daryl, in every way imaginable. I want you so bad sometime I can't think about anything else.”

Daryl shifted his stance. He felt tired and silly and confused. He didn't understand how Jesus could mean all the things he said. “I…”

“Do you trust me?” Daryl nodded. “Then you have to trust that I wouldn't lie to you.” He leaned forward and kissed him softly. “Do you want me Daryl?”

Daryl locked eyes with Jesus. “Yes,” he whispered. He didn't need to think about it, he'd done all the thinking he could since the first time Jesus said he liked him. He didn't know everything it meant or everything that went with the yearning he felt when Jesus touched him, but he knew he wanted it. 

“You sure,” he asked? Daryl leaned forward and kissed Jesus, all the emotions he'd been holding inside rising to the surface. He'd caught the other man off guard, who stumbled back a little. Daryl followed, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders. He pulled him close and licked along the other man’s lips until he opened for him. Daryl deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along Jesus’. Jesus moaned into the kiss and it fueled some deep part of Daryl. He reached up to grip his hair, and found the knot. He pulled softly until his hair came tumbling out and over his shoulder. Daryl fisted his hand in the hair, pulling so that Jesus’ head fell back. He broke the kiss to kiss down Jesus’ chin and neck. He bit down at the junction where Jesus’ neck met his shoulder and Jesus gasped, his body arching up into Daryl’s. It was a heady feeling and suddenly Daryl could understand it. He'd finally found someone he trusted, someone he wanted to get close to, and it fed some primal need deep inside him. He licked over the place he'd bit and Jesus moaned, gripping his upper arms to hold himself steady. “Daryl,” Jesus growled out and the gravelly sound of his voice made Daryl’s blood rush south. 

Jesus broke away from his hold and Daryl almost whined at the loss of contact. His body felt on fire and he was harder than he'd ever been in his life. “Answer yer question?”

Jesus nodded. His eyes were glazed over and he shifted in a way that Daryl understood. A sense of pride, of knowing that he'd made the man in front of him look that debauched, filled him. He wanted to make him fall apart, even if he didn't quite know how to achieve that. “There's that look again,” Jesus whispered, “like you want to eat me.”

“That an option?” He grinned and reveled in the groaned Jesus gave in response. 

Jesus reached out and took his hand. “Come here,” he whispered and lead him to the bed. Daryl sat on the end of the bed and Jesus stepped in between his legs. Jesus cupped the back of his neck and leaned Daryl’s head back, leaning down to kiss him deeply. Daryl's hands gripped Jesus’ back and pulled him closer. Daryl lost himself into the kiss, in the feel of Jesus’ back under his fingers. He wanted more, he needed to feel more. His hands drifted down to Jesus’ waist and his fingers played with the hem of his shirt. Jesus broke the kiss and kissed along his jaw. Daryl nearly died when Jesus nipped at his earlobe. “You can take it off,” Jesus whispered against his ear. The feeling of the other man’s breath against his ear caused shivers to run down his spine. Jesus resumed kissing down his jaw and neck. Daryl lifted the material slowly, his brain half working with each nip of Jesus’ teeth. 

He could feel the heat of Jesus’ skin as he inched the material up. Jesus broke away from Daryl and stepped away enough so that he could lift his arms. Daryl could barely breath, lifting the material over Jesus’ head and letting it fall to the floor. Jesus hair fell onto his shoulders and Daryl could only stare. He knew Jesus trained but the sight of him made his mouth water. He was thin but strong with well defined muscles. His chest was covered in a soft layer of hair that darkened under his belly button and lead downwards. Up until that point, he'd known that he thought Jesus was attractive and that he wanted him but it's been an abstract though. This...seeing this man in front of him and knowing that he could touch him, that he wanted to be touched by Daryl, was concrete. He reached out but pulled back in the last second. Jesus reached, taking Daryl's hand and placing it on his chest over his heart. It was beating fast, he could feel the pulsing of it under his hands. Could feel the heat of his body and the soft hair beneath his fingers. “Kiss me,” he whispered because he needed it like he needed to breath. 

Jesus surged forward and they met in a hard kiss that caused their teeth to clatter. Jesus gripped his hair, changed the angle, and delved in. Daryl's hands skimmed down Jesus’ back. The skin was warm and hard and Daryl couldn't breath. He couldn't think or speak or even remember who he was. All he knew was the bone deep feeling of desire, the fire in the pit of his stomach, and the feel of Jesus under his hands. Jesus’ hands came up to Daryl’s shoulders and pushed gently. Daryl followed, letting Jesus guide him back against the bed. Jesus hovered over him, one arm propping him up and the other carding his fingers through Daryl's hair. He looked down at him, the ends of his hair brushing against Daryl’s chin. “Good?”

“Mhm,” Daryl reached up and brought him down for another kiss. 

Jesus broke it quickly, looking down at Daryl with a look Daryl couldn't read. His fingers played along the collar of Daryl’s shirt. “You want this off?” Daryl fought the urge to flinch back and run. He forced himself to breath and to think carefully about the situation. With his back on the bed, Jesus wouldn't be able to see the scars he was so ashamed of and he couldn't deny the desire to feel Jesus against him with nothing between them. He nodded and Jesus smiled. He kissed him again and Daryl barely noticed when Jesus inched the shirt up. Jesus broke the kiss only long enough to pull the material over his head before he captured his lips again. 

Daryl had been through a lot, experienced things that some people couldn't fathom, but he'd never felt something this good. The feeling of Jesus against him, skin to skin, was indescribable. Daryl groaned and shifted so that Jesus fit between his legs. His body felt tight and hot, like his skin was stretched over his bones. He ached, his hands roaming and his tongue thrusting, needing more. He needed something, chased something that his brain knew but couldn't name at this time. “Paul,” he groaned when the other man broke their kiss. 

Jesus kissed down his chin, down his neck, and across his collarbone. Daryl arched up and nearly cried out when Jesus bit down on the skin below his collarbone and sucked hard. Jesus’ hands were on his arms, his nails biting against his skin, and Daryl’s brain completely shut down when Jesus’s mouth worked its way lower. The man kissed and nipped and sucked down his chest before he reached a nipple. He licked over it and Daryl’s hips arched up. Jesus did it again and Daryl’s hands fisted in his hair, a loud moan echoing in the room. “God, look at you,” Jesus whispered into his skin. “Fuck Daryl...want you so bad.” He leaned up, locking eyes with Daryl. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. His hair was a mess and wound tightly in Daryl's fist. His lips were red and puffy, wet with spit. 

Daryl cupped his cheek and ran his finger over those lips. Jesus flicked his tongue out to lick at the finger before pulling it into his mouth. He sucked and Daryl felt his cock twitch. Up until now, he'd avoided thinking about it but his mind shifted to the hardness pressed uncomfortably against his zipper. He felt like an exposed nerve, raw and just the edge of fucking painful. Jesus popped his finger out of his mouth, bringing Daryl's attention back to him. “I ain't...I don't know…”

“I know,” Jesus whispered. “Let me take care of you.” Jesus resumed kissing his chest, working his way down his stomach. His hands followed, skating down his sides and resting at his waist. Jesus sucked lightly on his hip before looking up again. “Can I take these off?” His fingers rested at the edge of his waistband. Daryl nodded, unable to breath let alone speak. Jesus’ fingers were fast and he had the button and zipper down quickly. He hooked his fingers along the waistband of the jeans and tugged. Daryl blushed, closed his eyes and turned his head. He couldn't watch, instead focusing on the feeling of his jeans sliding down his legs and the sound of them hitting the floor. Jesus ran his hands up his legs, nails scratching softly against the coarse hair. He kissed along the waistband of the boxers before sliding them off too. “Fuck.” Daryl cracked one eye open at the word. Jesus was kneeling between his legs and staring at him. He suddenly understood what Jesus had meant when he said Daryl looked like he wanted to eat him. There was a hunger on Jesus’ face and a heat to his gaze that made Daryl squirm. Jesus looked up at him, “so fucking beautiful,” he whispered. Daryl could feel the heat in his cheeks and he shut his eyes again. 

Daryl nearly jumped out of the bed when Jesus’ hand wrapped around him. His eyes snapped open and he looked down. It was odd, to see another hand wrapped around his cock and even more so the amount of pure pleasure racing through him. Jerking off had always been mechanical for Daryl, another need his body required. This was something that Daryl couldn't even have imagined. Jesus was watching him, his bottom lip between his teeth, gauging his reaction. He moved his hand up, applying a little more pressure and running his thumb under the head. “Fuck,” Daryl hissed. 

Jesus abruptly let go and Daryl didn't even try to stop the whine that left his throat. Jesus shifted down the bed and stood up. Daryl watched as he shed his pants and underwear before crawling back on the bed. “We good?”

“Hell yes,” Daryl said and he reached out. Jesus crawled up the bed and over Daryl. Daryl could feel the heat of the other man’s body so close to his and he ached for more. Jesus took his hands, lacing their fingers and pressing them against the bed. His body settled over Daryl’s, shoulder to hip. He arched up, kissing him deeply. Jesus shifted and his hips thrust down. Their cocks slide together and Daryl moaned into Jesus’ mouth. Jesus’ grip on his hands tightened and he began a rhythm that Daryl followed. 

Daryl felt like he was falling and floating all at the same time. He lost the ability to keep kissing, instead he broke away and his head fell back involuntarily. Jesus kissed down Daryl’s face and neck, his breath hot and his beard tickling against his skin. Daryl panted, the air feeling hot and heavy on his tongue. Jesus groaned against his neck, his hips moving faster. “Daryl,” Jesus moaned and Daryl swore he'd never heard anything so fucking beautiful as his name falling out of Jesus’ mouth like that. 

His body felt strung tight like a bowstring. He couldn't focus, couldn't do anything except feel. Jesus pressed down harder, his cock sliding against Daryl's and catching under the head. Daryl’s vision swam, his body snapped and he cried out, “Paul”, as he came. For the moment, nothing could touch him. He felt free of everything that he'd been carrying around his whole life. There were no voices, just a peaceful silence. The world around him faded out to just this, him and Jesus. Jesus panted into his neck, hips stuttering as he approached his own climax. 

Fingers carded through his hair as Jesus shifted his weight to the side. Daryl turned his head, catching the other man's eyes. He was smiling, one of those bright grins that warmed his body. “Hi,” he whispered. 

Daryl smirked, “hi.” He reached out and tucked a stray piece of hair behind Jesus’ ear. His eyes felt heavy and his body loose and relaxed. 

Jesus reached for the blanket, pulling it over them. He rested his head against Daryl’s chest, his hand coming to trace patterns on his skin. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“For what,” he asked?

“Trusting me,” Jesus said softly. Daryl leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Jesus’ head. Jesus breathing was mellowing out and Daryl finally succumbed to sleep.


	13. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to get this up. I've gotten a new job and I'm getting everything prepared to start. 
> 
> Omg that season finale!!!! I can't even. 
> 
> Be on the lookout for another one shot soon. The plot bunnies are attacking me.

A loud sound woke Jesus from an intense dream. He blinked rapidly and tried to chase the images as they faded away. He looked over at the man sleeping beside him and his heart ached. He'd spent almost a month watching Daryl sleep when they had first got here and he'd never seen him sleep the way he was now. He was sound asleep, not even noticing Jesus’ shift in position or the fact that someone was knocking at the door again. Jesus reached up, shaking his shoulders softly. “Unn...go back to sleep,” he growled out. 

Jesus smiled brightly. Daryl had always been a violent waker, often times he would spring awake and set his eyes immediately to scan for danger. The fact that he was sleeping so soundly and not bothering to wake up fully, meant that some part of him truly trusted Jesus. “Someone's at the door,” he whispered. He pressed a quick kiss to the other man’s cheek just because he could. 

Daryl reached up and pulled Jesus, who fell against his chest with a squeak. “They'll go away,” he said as he curled his arm around Jesus and turned his head to snuggle into Jesus’ neck. 

Jesus wouldn't have taken Daryl for a cuddler, but he wasn't about to complain. He settled back down on the other man’s chest. He was just letting the feel of Daryl’s heart beat lull him to sleep, when the knock came again. 

“Damn it,” Daryl hissed. Jesus moved off him and closed his eyes quickly. He didn't know if Daryl was still aware that his shirt was off, but he didn't want to make the other man uncomfortable. Whatever scars he had, Jesus had to trust that Daryl would show them to him in his own time. And he didn't want to ruin the amazing time they'd had by trying to see them before Daryl was ready. He could hear the shuffling of Daryl getting dressed and his small grumbling sounds made Jesus smile. Daryl would probably punch him if he told him, but Jesus found him enduringly cute. His nervous habit of chewing on his thumb, the way he ducked his head and hid behind his hair when he was embarrassed, and now the little grumbling noises he made were adding to a long list Jesus kept in his head of cute things Daryl did. 

Jesus opened his eyes when he heard the door open. Doctor Carson’s voice muttered something and Daryl responded. Jesus knew that Daryl had been working with the man, but he didn't know they were close enough that he'd visit at night. He grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around himself and heading towards them. He was just inside the bedroom door when he heard his name. “You got Jesus in here?” Jesus felt something sink in his stomach and he pressed himself against the wall of the bedroom. Eavesdropping was childish, but he couldn't help it. 

“That your business how?” Daryl didn't sound mad but Jesus could hear the slight defensiveness in his tone. 

“You are a good man and I'm not saying Jesus isn't, but you should be careful. You strike me as an all or nothing guy and Jesus...well I know he told you about Alex with the way you reacted to him. But I don't know if he told you...he broke that man’s heart:”

Jesus’ stomach felt like a mess of knots. He'd always know that Doctor Carson held him responsible for Alex, but he didn't expect him to approach Daryl about it. “He told me,” Daryl said. “Look, you and I get along. I like helpin’ out, but that don't mean you got a say in my life.”

“I know. I just...I would hate to see you get hurt.”

“He ain't gonna hurt me,” Daryl said and Jesus felt undeserving of the matter-of-fact way that Daryl said it. There was no wavering, he sounded as sure about that as if he'd been asked if the sky was blue. “Ain't judged no one on their past, ain't startin’ now. All you need to know is he's mine and I’m his and it'd take a lot more than him needing to be out them walls or have space and freedom to make me walk away. Alex gave him up and that's his problem. I ain't that fuckin’ stupid.” If Doctor Carson said anything in response, Jesus didn't hear. He did hear the door close and he moved, leaning against the doorframe. Daryl turned and his eyes widened before settling into a playful glare. “Bein’ nosey?”

“I thought maybe something was wrong,” he whispered. “You didn't have to defend me.”

Daryl scoffed, “Wasn't gonna let him say that shit bout you.”

Jesus gnawed his bottom lip and dropped his eyes to the floor, “He's right though.”

Daryl stepped forward until he'd closed the distance between them. “Ain't his business,” Daryl whispered. “This between me and you. And I trust ya.”

Jesus felt Daryl’s hand tilting his face up. Blue eyes met his and Jesus saw nothing but true sincerity in them. It was like seeing a lake so clear you could see the bottom. “I wouldn't hurt you. I wouldn't leave unless you asked me to.”

“I know,” Daryl said as he dragged a thumb across his cheek. 

Jesus hadn't felt the tear slide down his cheek. He didn't know why he was crying, only that it felt like his heart would explode. “Come back bed?”

“Gotta shower,” he blushed and Jesus wanted to trace the color with his tongue. “Sticky.”

Jesus giggled, “my bad.” 

Daryl knocked his shoulder playfully. “You go on back, I'll be quick.” Daryl gave him a lingering look, his eyes traveling down Jesus’ blanket clad body. 

“Should...you want me to put clothes on?” He didn't know how Daryl would feel about him remaining naked. He had a few ex-lovers who hadn't liked sleeping naked or with someone who was naked. 

Daryl tugged the blanket to the side over his shoulder and leaned down, nipping softly at the skin. He tongued over the spot to soothe it. “Best not,” he growled. 

Jesus felt like he could melt into the floor. He wanted to offer to shower with the other man, but he was afraid of being turned down. “Naked it is then,” he said with a salacious wink. “Go take your shower. I'll just go back to bed all alone.” He gave an exaggerated pout which brought a smile to Daryl's face. The other man walked towards the bathroom and Jesus waited until the door closed before he fell back on the bed. He did a small little wiggle of happiness, basking in the feeling of making Daryl Dixon smile like that. 

Jesus’ nerves started to get the best of him when he heard the water shut off. He'd never been nervous or shy with a previous lover, but everything felt different with Daryl. He wanted to make the other man happy, as happy as he made Jesus and that was new to him. The door opened and Jesus nearly fainted. He expected Daryl to come back out dressed, knowing the other man was both shy and reserved. Instead, he came out with a towel slung low on his hips. His hair was wet, towel dried but still dripping small droplets of water on his chest. Jesus’ eyes followed one drop, that clung to the tip of his hair before falling down Daryl’s neck and down his chest. Jesus wanted to lick it off him but he couldn't breath, let alone move. Daryl padded across the room and stood nervously at the bed. “You sure you wanna see?”

It took a minute for Jesus’ brain to catch up with what he was asking. Jesus nodded, afraid to speak out loud and ruin what he was sure was a defining moment between them. Daryl sat down beside him on the bed and then turned away. Jesus didn't breath or speak or move, but his heart felt like it broke into pieces. Objectively, he'd known that the scarring would be bad or the other man wouldn't have been so nervous about it. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different things. The scars were dark and raised, evident that they probably hadn't healed properly. They looked like lash marks, striping the pale skin in various directions, some faint but most as dark as the tattoo on his shoulder. Jesus inhaled deeply, willing himself to calm down the swirl of emotions he was drowning in. “Can I?” He let his hand hover over Daryl’s shoulder and waited. 

Daryl nodded after a few moments and Jesus pressed his hand to the skin of the other man’s shoulder. Daryl flinched violently, jerking away from Jesus. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Jesus whispered. He shifted, the blanket falling off his chest and over his lap. “Can I ask you something?” Daryl looked over his shoulder and nodded. “The person that did this, they dead?”

“My father,” Daryl said. “Yeah, he's dead.”

“Good.” Jesus could tell that the tone of his voice shocked the other man. It shocked him how much he wished the man wasn't dead, just so he could watch him die. “Can I try again?” Daryl didn't take long to nod this time and Jesus changed his tactic. He started by shifting closer so that Daryl could feel his presence. He reached out with a single finger and traced the lines of the tattoo. It was oddly beautiful, the stark black ink against the man’s skin. 

Jesus leaned forward and kissed over the ink. His hands shook and he rested his forehead between the other man’s shoulder blades. Daryl's body was tense and Jesus could feel the slight quiver that told him it was taking a lot of effort for the man to remain there. Jesus lifted his head and resumed running his finger over the ink. He gave it a few more minutes before he pressed his palm flat against the skin. Daryl flinched but he didn't jerk away this time. His body was coiled tightly and Jesus could feel it under his hand. He placed the other hand on Daryl’s other shoulder, skin against skin. Daryl's breathing was shallow and short. Jesus didn't know what to say and for the first time he felt completely at a loss. He followed his instinct, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the long scar in the middle of Daryl’s back. Daryl's body shook and Jesus could feel all the emotions he'd been trying to fight back came bubbling up to the surface. He kept going, kissing over each inch of scar tissue. “Paul,” Daryl whispered and the sound of his voice, so filled with emotion, tugged at Jesus’ heart. 

Jesus backed away, let the other man turn to face him. He had been crying and Jesus reached up to brush a tear away. He leaned forward and kissed him, letting the other man slump into his arms and kiss back. There was a yearning in the way he kissed Jesus, as if he was trying to crawl into him. Jesus moved them carefully so they were lying side by side facing each other. He broke the kiss, bringing a hand up to run through Daryl's hair. “I'm sorry he hurt you.”

Daryl looked up at him and Jesus knew. Looking into those blue eyes, bright and clear from the tears, he saw his future. He'd die for this man. He'd kill for him. He'd give him everything he had, let him take anything from Jesus he wanted. He'd spend a lifetime making him happy because he loved him. It felt like he'd been punched in the gut, the realization that he was in love with the man before him. He couldn't say it to him, didn't know how he'd even start, so he made himself lock it away. “It was a long time ago.”

Jesus cupped his cheek. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. Daryl scoffed and ducked his head. Jesus lifted his chin, “You aren't damaged or ugly. You've lived through something that I'd give anything to take away from you. But you, being here now, means you survived it. You are strong and beautiful.”

Daryl kissed him. He pulled him close and dived into the kiss with an intensity Jesus hadn't felt before. Jesus followed his lead, arching into him and wrapping his arms around him. Daryl barely flinched when Jesus’ hands settled on his back. “Thank you.”

Jesus tucked his head into Daryl's neck and just breathed in. He felt the other man running his fingers through his hair. The emotions of the day caught them both and they were out before they knew it.


	14. Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize it has been so long for this update. I have a new job and a new puppy so my life is a little topsy turvy right now. Hope you enjoy.

The smell of food wafted through the room and Daryl’s stomach woke him up. Still half asleep, Daryl dragged himself out of bed. He found a pair of sweats and a shirt, pulled them on, and stumbled out of the room. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the light and then again to adjust to what he was seeing. Jesus was standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of snug briefs with his hair pulled up in a knot, and cooking something that made Daryl’s mouth water. Well, he didn’t think that was all the breakfast. Yesterday had been a rollercoaster of emotions and Daryl didn’t quite know how to act now. He wasn’t used to this feeling...of wanting to reach out and touch another person and certainly not knowing that the touch would be welcomed. Daryl shifted nervously before taking a tentative step towards the other man while his brain supplied images of couples he had seen and how they interacted with each other. He followed the images and wrapped his arms around Jesus’ waist from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. “Morning,” Jesus said brightly. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”

“Smell woke me,” Daryl whispered. “You didn’t hafta make me anything.”

“You made dinner the other night,” Jesus turned his head and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Besides, about the only thing I can make is eggs. Anything more complicated and I’m likely to burn the place down.”

Daryl huffed, “Ain’t much of a wife huh?”

Jesus smacked his arm playfully at the comment, but his eyes were filled with brightness. He turned in Daryl’s arms and wrapped his arms around his neck. Daryl leaned down and kissed him deeply, pulling him as close to him as he could. For something he’d never even imagined could happen, he’d quickly become addicted to kissing the other man. Jesus’ hand ran through his hair and down his neck before pulling away. “You’re gonna make me burn breakfast. Go over there before you distract me too much.”

Daryl let him go and headed over to the table. He felt…light, like he could float away. He wondered if this was what happiness meant. It felt weird to him and he forced himself not to think about how it could all fall apart. “You got plans today?”

“I have to fill Gregory in on the run and make sure everything is set with Maggie. You?” Jesus walked over to him with their plates and sat down across from him. 

“Enid wants to learn to fight, asked me for lessons away from the group.” Jesus nodded and the two of them ate in a comfortable silence. “Food’s good,” he said when he finished his plate. 

Jesus smiled brightly, “Thanks. Guess you'll keep me around huh?”

Daryl’s lip twitched in amusement, “We’ll see.” 

-x-

Daryl headed behind Barrington House to meet Enid. He liked the girl, she had a lot of fire and he saw a similar reluctance to trust people. He could also see why Carl was drawn to the girl. She was strong and once she'd learn to fight, Daryl knew she'd be a force to reckon with. Daryl settled on the ground behind the house and lit up a cigarette. 

Enid joined him a few minutes later and Daryl snubbed out his cigarette. “Those will kill you,” she said instead of a greeting. 

“So will everythin’ else,” Daryl muttered. “You ready?”

They spent several hours going through various training exercises. Daryl had never really taught someone to fight hand to hand before. They managed fairly well and within the hour they'd both broken a sweat. Daryl stopped for a break, handing Enid a water and sitting against the house. Enid sat next to him, draining half her water before speaking. “You were there, at Negan’s?”

Daryl looked over. Enid’s face was blank and her gaze straight ahead. Tension filled her shoulders and he was reminded of himself at that age. Always on guard, always tense, always waiting for something terrible to happen. “Yeah.”

“How'd Carl get out alive?”

“Think Negan took a shine to him,” Daryl answered. “Damn stupid thing he did.” Enid nodded but didn't reply. Silence stretched between them and Daryl felt it in his bones. Enid might not look damaged, but he could see it in her. “Paul...Jesus is better at hand to hand. I can teach ya how to shoot too, if you're interested.”

Enid looked over and raised an eyebrow. “How'd you trust him?” Daryl's shock must have been written on her face, because she gave a small smirk. “I'm small and quiet,” she said. “I saw him kiss you.”

Daryl could feel the heat in his cheeks and he turned his head away. It wasn't that he was hiding it, hell Maggie, Michonne and Dr. Carson knew, he just didn't know how to talk about it. “Ain't sure,” he answers truthfully. “Just...connected.”

“Aren't you afraid?” Daryl turned to look at her, by Enid had turned back to gazing at the wall. 

“Of losing him?” Enid nodded. “Sometimes. He's a capable fighter and smart, which ain't to say that nothin’ can happen. I've lost people before, same as you.” Enid turned back towards him. She didn't cry and Daryl figured she wouldn't. He knew her now, knew who she was deep in her soul. He knew the hardness that formed there. “Ya can shut it down,” he whispered. “Turn off that part of ya that feels it. But then ya hafta turn it all off. No family, no love, nothing but anger. You'll survive, you'll live, but ain't much of a life. Took me a long time to realize that.”

Enid looked over at him. “Can we train some more?” Daryl nodded. He'd help her any way she needed.

The day had been long but Daryl felt good when he finally collapsed in his trailer. Enid had started to brighten up a bit by the end of their training and Maggie having lunch with them helped both of them. Daryl wondered when Jesus would be back and if they should have dinner when the door swung open. “Hey…” Daryl's voice left him the minute the door closed behind the man in front of him. 

Even through the dark leather, Daryl could see the stickiness of blood. Jesus face and hands were covered, his hair matted to the side of his head. Daryl's brain malfunctioned and all he could do was wonder where the man’s beanie was. “Hi.” The one word was filled with more tiredness then Daryl had ever heard from him. 

He leapt to his feet when his brain finally kicked in. “Any of this yours?”

“The head wound,” he said slowly. 

Daryl could see the signs of shock that were settling over Jesus. “Come on,” he said gently. He took Jesus’ hand and led him to the bathroom. Jesus was still and silent as Daryl stripped each piece of clothing off him. He ran his hands and eyes over each inch of his body, not sexually but to check for bites or scratches. He sat Jesus on the toilet and started a bath. Shock made the body cold, he knew that, so he made the water as warm as he could. Once it was full, Daryl stripped his own clothes off and helped ease Jesus into the tub. He sat behind him, pulling the other man between his legs to help warm him up. 

They sat in the water for what felt like forever. Daryl ran his hands up and down Jesus’ arms, waiting. Finally, after what felt like hours, Jesus fell apart. Tears started to fall and his body started to shake. Daryl pulled him back against his chest and wrapped his arms around him. He held him close, let the other man fall apart until there was nothing left in him. Daryl washed him, carefully washing through the blood on his head. The wound was small, head wounds always bled worse than they were, but he'd have a hell of a knot. Daryl lifted Jesus out of the tub, dried them both off, and led them to bed. Jesus fell asleep against Daryl's chest the instant his head rested there. Daryl stroked his hair, watched him carefully, and knew that he'd get no sleep that night.


End file.
